

o 


\\* 

.A' •/>- 
'V •> 



o 






" oy' 






.0 





U \ <i V ^ ^ 

'"5^" 

^0■ ^ f 0 s f' ' 

^ If I ' . « « . 'I' ■’ ^ 

"z- \.' «-'’ ^ O' '« ^ ' 'V C' 

/; % t. ^ " 

^ v\^‘ 

■ %, ^'^#* 1 '^.' .^v 

^ ' ' ' ' -{.O . 1 I » , ' ° ' " t 0 ~ ■: » 

0 --^ 

^ j- ^ ^ 


oX> ^• 

« - ^ -;^V 0 N C , ^ 

.-O' ^ 







> 




* 8 I A * 

V' 


0 0^ > 

r 

^ , 

<o 





X 


0 ^ K 


' t ■'<5 0 ^ : »>o^ 


\ V '/> 
*»\' *-^ 


•>- 


V » B 




vX' ^ * 

> s '* 0 A 

' 'f' ^ R 

^ % ->^^■ " = ■% ^ 
tP »<' a= // /I ^ ^ 


^ v» 

■sX -• \ 

Ol-tJ ^ , 




’<J^» W 

V> <<x^ 


.i. -. ^ f."'A* 

'O.X* <0 

°3 C? 


*>^ Y 

oo^ 






. o <i > 

xO^ jnJ 

.-X V 

r' 


.'■ "^.p. = » .-■i’ ■'%-, 

■',•'4%^^ .(A- ■^' , 

' A •?. ' ij , i ■* 'ij <r, ' 

' - 0 % 

:^w 

-A . ^ 







.>.A ■'^p 


A 





-y « ' ' » « 


\ 


^ ,0- 





0 c 


i ^ ^ s'' V' 

' K 




AV ® as Xw" ^ .'o 

lA ^ ^ O V 

^ ^ 0 , s 

O C.- ^ 

/> ^ 



#- '-'^ f~^ <1 o .X r\ 

^ A' ^ ^ ^ ‘ / 

'p^. . ^ 

r- </» \X' ■=► ,J\\ /h, „ 

1 kP \v ^ A\\>^(^//h O 

e» C 

- -V " 

A ■<<' ' D- 


•;>> ^ 


V- . ,;\;° ' ^ , V' “""/''v-' ' ‘ * “"2?. 

^ _<:*^o>^^ y aX aty/r/Z^ -p 



o o' :a\^ 


• V ^ ■ 

^ A' ' 

c « 1^ 


n0°<. 


^ N 




C 


^;; " 
z 


%<. ^ 

✓ 


^ \V .J> 

^ aX^' " ‘I 


■t 

, <% * .# 0> 
“y. 


A. 




• -• - ^ 

> ’•'''”:>^-;V*-'-’v^"^>*», -> -' A- 

'K< <i^ « ^'r vV’ ^ 'K< 

' >.. •?//'«. x-^ <0^ •C, A ,,, ■? 

IV 



: x°°^. 



'» .j'To ■* ^^'*■ , !•' .:.°^ "■ 

,■ ’* v' ^ ■' • “' > ^0^ '' ” '-x c- ■ 

.-.$■= A.. 


'P^ 

a'^’ ^ 

tP \V « 



c^ '■ ^ A^' ° 

./ X A . . 

I'h v' _ /W-2-, o O'^ ^ 




: 

•"b 


® 

« VN& 

o 



c^ ^ 

tr 






























THE RED CROSS GIRLS ON 
THE FRENCH FIRING 
LINE 


The Red Cross Girls 
On the French Firing Line 


By 

MARGARET VANDERCOOK 

Author of “The Ranch Girls Series,” “Stories 
about Camp Fire Girls Series,” etc. 


fUoBtrateO 


The John C. Winston Company 

PhilMlelphia 





Copyright, 1916, by 

The John C. Winston Co. 



MAY -5 1916 

©CU428896 




A 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTBB PAGB 

1. Place de l’Opera 7 

11. Another Meeting 23 

III. The Cross of the Legion of Honor. 38 

IV. On the Roof 54 

V. Other Fields 69 

VI. The Chateau 78 

VII. Nicolete 89 

VIII. Who Goes There? 103 

IX. A Conversation 116 

X. Chateau d’Ameiie 126 

XL The Prejudice Deepens 139 

XII. Not Peace But War 150 

XIII. Danger 164 

XIV. The Parting of the Ways 177 

XV. The Other Two Girls 192 

XVI. The Discovery 202 

XVII. Recognition 214 

XVIII. Out of the Depth 227 

XIX. Eugenia 240 

XX. The Pool of Truth 250 

(5) 




t 


4 






r 



\ 


s 


f ^ 
'1 




f 


» 











% 


f 


/ 


>■ 



% 


f 


* 



y. I ^ 



i 


' \ 


I 


I 


f 




» 

i 


\ 


* 


s 


(• 




I 


I 


•H 



.♦ k 


1 



i 










4^ 


» 



i' I 

V 



■. .•♦/iv.ti't i f. 


f 


THE RED CROSS GIRLS ON 
THE FRENCH FIRING 
LINE 


CHAPTER I 
Place de VOpera 

N ot long after the beginning of the 
war in Europe four American girls 
set sail from New York City to 
aid In the Red Cross nursing. 

When they boarded the ‘‘Philadelphia” 
they were almost strangers to one another. 
And never were girls more unlike. 

Eugenia Peabody, the oldest of the four, 
hailed from Massachusetts and appeared 
almost as stern and forbidding as the rock- 
bound coasts. Privately the others insisted 
in the early part of their acquaintance that 
this same Eugenia must have been born an 
‘‘old maid.” 


( 7 ) 


8 


On the French Firing Line 


Mildred Thornton was the daughter of 
a distinguished New York judge and her 
mother a prominent society woman. But 
Mildred herself cared little for a butterfly 
existence. With the call of the suffering 
sounding In her ears she had given up a 
luxurious existence for the hardships and 
perils of a Red Cross nurse. 

The youngest of the four girls, Barbara 
Meade, was a very small person with a 
large store of energy and unexpectedness. 
And the last girl, Nona Davis, was a native 
of the conservative old city of Charleston, 
South Carolina. Although a mystery 
shadowed her mother’s history, Nona had 
been brought up by her father, a one-time 
Confederate general, with all the ideas and 
traditions of the old South. 

Yet in spite of these contrasts in their 
natures and lives, the four American Red 
Cross girls had spent more than six months 
caring for the wounded British soldiers 
In the Sacred Heart Hospital in northern 
France. 

With the closing of the last story the news 
had come that the headquarters of the 


Place de I’Opera 


9 


hospital must be changed at once. At 
any hour the German invaders might swarm 
into the countryside. 

There had been but little time to remove 
the wounded. So, not wishing to add to the 
responsibilities and finding themselves more 
in the way than of service, the four girls 
had escaped together to a small town in 
France farther away from the enemy’s line. 

Here they concluded to offer their aid 
to the Croix de Rouge, or the Red Cross 
Society of France. 

But this was in the spring, and now 
another autumn has come round. 

One wonders what the four American 
girls are doing and where they are living. 


The great square in front of the Grand 
Opera House in Paris surged with excited 
people. 

Automobiles and carriages crowded with 
men and women, waving tri-colored flags, 
filled the streets. It was a warm October 
night with a brilliant canopy of stars over- 
head. 


10 


On the French Firing Line 


‘‘Vive la France! Vive TArmee!’’ the 
throng shouted, swaying backward and 
forward in its effort to draw closer to the 
great palace. 

There must have been between five and 
ten thousand persons in the neighborhood, 
for tonight France was celebrating her 
greatest achievement of the war. At last 
the news had come that the victorious 
Frenh army had driven the Germans back 
across the frontiers of Alsace-Lorraine. 
Once again the French flag was planted 
within their lost provinces. 

“Aliens, enfants, de la patrie, 

Le jour de gloire est arrive.’’ 

In the crowd a woman had started the 
singing of the Marseillaise, Immediately 
thousands of voices joined in the song, 
while thousands of feet kept time upon the 
paving stones to this greatest of all marching 
measures. 

Six broad streets in Paris converge into a 
triangular square which is known as the 
Place de FOpera. From here one looks 
upward to the opera house itself, a splendid 


Place de POpera 


11 


building three stories in height and ap- 
proached by a broad flight of stone steps. 

Standing within the crowd, a little to the 
left of the opera, was a group of five persons, 
four of them girls, while the fifth was a young 
man whose coat was buttoned in such a 
fashion that he appeared to have but one 
arm. However, the other arm hung limp 
and useless underneath his coat. 

Although their appearance and accents 
were those of foreigners, two of the girls 
in the little party were singing along with 
the French crowd. The other two were 
silent, although their faces expressed equal 
interest and animation. 

Suddenly the singing of the street crowd 
ceased. The central door of the opera house 
had been thrown open and a young woman 
came out upon the portico. She was dressed 
in a clinging white robe and wore upon her 
head a diadem of brilliants, while in her 
hands she carried the French flag. So 
skilfully had the lights been arranged 
behind her that she could be seen for a great 
distance. To the onlookers she represented 
the symbolic female figure of the great 


12 


On the French Firing Line 


French Republic, ‘‘Liberte, Egalite, Frater- 
nite.” 

For a moment after her appearance there 
was a breathless silence, then the next even 
more enthusiastic shouts resounded: 

‘‘Vive Chenel! Vive Chenel!” Hats 
were thrown into the air, thousands of flags 
waved, while myriads of handkerchiefs 
fluttered like white doves. 

It was a night to be always remembered 
by the people who shared its rapture. 

“Aux armes, citoyens, formez vos bataillons! 

Marchons! Marchons!’’ 

With the closing of the final verse of the 
Marseillaise^ in the midst of the wild 
applause, the smallest of the four girls in the 
little group placed her hand gently upon the 
armless sleeve of her young man companion. 

“Tonight makes up for a good deal, 
doesn’t it, Dick?” she queried a little 
wistfully. As she spoke her blue eyes were 
shining with excitement, while a warm color 
flooded her cheeks. 

The young fellow nodded. “It is the 
greatest spectacle I ever saw and one we 


Place de POpera 


13 


shall never forget,’’ he replied. Yet there 
will be a greater night to come when this 
war is finally over, though when that night 
will be no one can foretell.” 

Dick Thornton spoke gravely and seemed 
weary from the evening’s excitement. But 
then something of what he had passed 
through in the last six months showed in 
other ways than in his empty coat sleeve. 

Without his knowledge, the girl who had 
been speaking continued to study him for 
another moment. Then she turned to 
Mildred Thornton, who was on her other 
side and whispered: 

‘‘Mill, Dick is tired, but would rather 
die than confess it. Can’t you think of 
some way to get us out of this crowd before 
the breaking up begins? The jam then 
will be awful and we may not be able to 
keep together.” 

Up to the instant of Barbara Meade’s 
suggestion, Mildred had forgotten all per- 
sonal matters in her interest in the music 
and the vivid beauty of the scene surround- 
ing them. Now she too glanced toward her 
brother. 


14 


On the French Firing Line 


‘‘Dick/* she suggested at once, “don’t 
you think we had best start back toward 
our pension ? Madame Chenel is to sing an 
encore and I’m sorry we must miss it, but I 
really think it would be more sensible to 
go.” 

With the closing of the Marseillaise the 
celebrated singer had disappeared. Now 
in the midst of Mildred’s remark she 
returned to the balcony of the Opera House. 
No longer was she wearing her crown of 
brilliants, nor carrying the immense French 
flag. Instead her head was uncovered, 
showing her dark hair and eyes and the flag 
she bore was British, not French. 

Then she began singing in English, but 
with a delicious French accent: 

“It’s a long way to Tipperary, 

It’s a long way to go.” 

The crowd joined in the chorus. There 
were soldiers on the street, who had returned 
to Paris on leaves of absence, after learning 
English from the Tommies in the trenches. 
Others had only a faint knowledge of a few 
English words. But everybody sang, and 


Place de I’Opera 


15 


because some of the voices were French and 
others English the effect was all the more 
thrilling and amusing. 

Naturally Dick hesitated for a moment, 
then he remembered his own condition. 
Certainly he would be powerless to push 
their way through the great throng. Then 
if by chance rioting should break out from 
sheer excitement, it would be impossible 
for him to protect four girls. True, the 
American Red Cross girls were fairly well 
able to look after themselves in most emer- 
gencies. But Dick Thornton did not like 
the idea of having them put to the test at 
such a time and under the present circum- 
stances. 

‘‘I am afraid you are right, Mildred,” he 
agreed reluctantly. ‘‘Let’s form a single 
file; I’ll go first and all of you follow me. 
Tell the others.” 

Mildred at once put her arm inside a 
young woman’s who was standing near her, 
apparently oblivious of the past conversa- 
tion. Yet one would have expected Eugenia 
Peabody to have been first to have made the 
sensible suggestion of the past few moments. 


16 


On the French Firing Line 


Yet it was Barbara Meade with whom it 
had actually originated. 

But Eugenia too had been swept off h 
feet with enthusiasm. Moreover, she could 
scarcely make up her mind now to agree 
to leave, although plainly appreciating 
the situation. Eugenia looked surprisingly 
handsome tonight. 

In the first place, she wore a new Paris 
frock, which after long insistence the other 
three girls had persuaded her to buy. It 
was an inexpensive dress of dark-blue cloth 
and silk, but i was stylishly made and 
extremely be^ .ning. Above all, Eugenia 
had at last xscarded the unattractive hat 
in which si . had set sail, and which she had 
resolutely worn until this day. The new 
one had only cost five francs, but one 
should see the character of hat that can be 
bought in Paris for one dollar! 

Eugenia, it is true, had begrudged even 
that small amount for her own adornment, 
until Nona and Barbara had refused to 
appear upon the street with her still in her 
ancient ‘‘Alpine.’’ However, although she 
rebelled against the unnecessary extrava- 


Place de POpera 


17 


gance, so far Eugenia had not regretted her 
purchases. 

At the present moment she was standing 
next to Nona Davis and turned to speak to 
her. 

‘^Nona, I am sorry when it’s all so 
wonderful, but we must start back to the 
pension at once. Please come on,” she 
insisted authoritatively. 

And Eugenia had every reason to believe 
that Nona heard her words and agreed with 
her. She even thought that Nona moved 
on a few paces behind Moreover, 

this is exactly what she didr^^^evertheless, 
Nona afterwards insisted that ^er act must 
have been purely involuntary, she was 
not conscious of having heard or obeyed 
her companion. 

If the little group of five Americans had 
been enthralled by the night’s excitement, 
it was Nona Davis who was most completely 
swept off her feet. Never had she even 
dreamed of such beauty and glamour as this 
gala night in Paris offered! 

So little even of her own land had Nona 
seen, nothing save Charleston and the 


18 


On the French Firing Line 


surrounding neighborhood and the view 
from her car window on her way to New 
York City. 

The few days in London had been over- 
hung with the thought of the work ahead. 
But here in Paris for the past week the four 
Red Cross girls had been enjoying a brief 
holiday and were completely under the 
spell of the fascinating and beautiful city. 

Upon persons with a far wider experience 
of life and places than Nona Davis, Paris 
frequently casts this same spell. Indeed, 
it sometimes seems impossible that a city 
can be so beautiful and yet suited to the 
uses of everyday life. Both in Paris and 
in Venice one often expects to wake up 
and find the city a dream and not a reality. 

Certainly Nona had turned automatically 
to do as Eugenia had commanded her. But 
unfortunately, at the same moment Madame 
Chenel finished her English song and began 
at once on another which by an odd chance 
had a reminiscent quality for Nona. Instinc- 
tively she paused to listen and remember. 

Her impression of the song was one of 
long ago. Nona’s mother had once been in 


Place de POpera 


19 


New Orleans. Now the vision came to her 
daughter of an old-fashioned spinet at one 
end of the drawing room in her home in 
Charleston, and of a young woman in a 
white dress with blue ribbons sitting there 
singing this same French verse. 

For the moment everything else was 
forgotten. The girl simply stood spell- 
bound until the great artist finished. Only 
when she began bowing her thanks to the 
applauding crowd, did Nona turn again 
to look for Eugenia and her other friends. 
But as more than five minutes had passed 
since their warning, and as they had believed 
Nona following them, no one of the four 
could be seen. 

Moreover, at this same moment the great 
crowd began to break up. Then, as is 
always the case, everybody struggled to get 
away at the same moment. 

Just at first Nona was not alarmed at 
finding herself alone; she was simply 
bewildered. However, because she was 
endeavoring to stand still while every one 
else was moving, she was constantly being 
shoved from side to side. 


20 


On the French Firing Line 


Her first intention was to remain in the 
same place for a few moments. Then Dick 
or one of the girls would probably return 
for her. However, she soon appreciated 
that no human being could push their way 
back through the thronging multitude. 
Moreover, she too must move along or be 
trampled upon. 

Fortunately, the fact that she was alone 
did not seem to have been observed. For 
although the people in her neighborhood 
were not rough and ugly, as an English or 
Teutonic crowd might have been, neverthe- 
less, Nona knew that for a young girl to be 
alone at night in the streets of Paris was 
an unheard-of thing. Besides, later on the 
crowd might indulge in noisier ways of 
celebrating the German defeat than by 
listening to the singing of the great prima 
donna. 

What had she best do? As she was being 
pushed along, Nona was also thinking 
rapidly, although somewhat confusedly. 
She had not been on the street alone since 
her arrival. Both Mildred and Dick Thorn- 
ton were familiar with Paris and had been 
acting as the others’ escorts. 


Place de I’Opera 


21 


Their little French pension happened to 
be over on the other side of Paris. For- 
tunately, Nona remembered that she could 
find a bus near the Madeleine, the famous 
church not more than a dozen blocks away 
from the neighborhood of the opera. But 
how to reach this destination and what bus 
to take after her arrival? These were 
problems still to be dealt with. First of all, 
she must keep her forlorn condition a secret 
from observers in order not to be spoken 
to by an impertinent stranger. 

Naturally Nona appreciated that it was 
impossible for all Frenchmen to be equally 
courteous. Therefore, one of them might 
misunderstand her present predicament- 

However, as there was nothing else to 
do she continued moving with the crowd. 
In the meantime she kept assuring herself 
that it was absurd to be so nervous over an 
ordinary adventure. Think what expe- 
riences she had so lately passed through as 
a Red Cross nurse! 

But if she had only been wearing her 
nurse’s uniform, always it served as a 
protection! Yet naturally when one was 


22 


On the French Firing Line 


off duty and merely a holiday visitor in a 
city, it was pleasanter to dress like other 
persons. 

Like Eugenia, Nona was also wearing a 
new frock. Hers was of black silk with a 
hat of black tulle, making her fair hair and 
skin more conspicuous by contrast. Cer- 
tainly she would be apt to attract attention 
among the darker, more vividly colored 
French girls. 

But Nona had gone half the distance to 
the Madeleine before she was annoyed. 
Then just as she was about to cross the 
street at one of the corners, an arm was 
unexpectedly slipped through hers. 

With her heart pounding with terror and 
every bit of color drained from her cheeks, 
Nona looked up into the eyes of an imperti- 
nent youth. 

‘‘La belle Americaine!” he announced 
insolently. 


CHAPTER II 


Another Meeting 

HE next Instant Nona recovered 



her poise. She was, however, both 


^ frightened and angry. Yet if it 
were possible to avoid it, she did not wish 
to raise an alarm nor create any kind of 
commotion upon the street. 

At first quietly and firmly she attempted 
removing her arm, at the same time regard- 
ing the Frenchman with an expression of 
scorn and disapproval. 

‘‘Let me go at once,” she said, speaking 
excellent French, so there was no possi- 
bility of being misunderstood. 

But the young man only shrugged his 
shoulders, looking, if she had but known it, 
more mischievous than wicked. 

But Nona was now gazing despairingly 
about her. There were numbers of per- 
sons near by, stout mothers and fathers, 
the respectable tradespeople of Paris, with 


( 23 ) 


24 


On the French Firing Line 


the usual French family of two children. 
Nona could, of course, appeal to any one of 
them. But just at the instant no one was 
sufficiently near to accost without raising 
her voice. This would, of course, attract 
public attention, which, if possible, Nona 
did not wish to do. 

So she waited another second, hoping 
her tormentor would release her of his own 
accord. Finding he did not intend this, 
she glanced about for assistance a second 
time. Then she discovered two young 
officers passing within a few feet of her. 
One of them wore a British uniform and 
the other French. 

Nona spoke quickly, knowing instinc- 
tively that the men were gentlemen. 

‘‘Stop a moment, please!” she asked. 
“I am a stranger and have lost my friends 
in the crowd. This man is annoying me.” 

Then In spite of her efforts the girl’s 
voice shook with nervousness while her eyes 
filled with humiliated tears. 

With her first words the two officers 
whirled around. At the same moment 
Nona’s persecutor started to run. How- 


Another Meeting 


25 


ever, he was not quick enough, for the 
young French officer managed to slip his 
scabbard between the fellow’s feet. At 
once he was face down on the ground and 
only brought upright again by the officer’s 
hand on his collar. 

In the interval the other young man was 
gazing at Nona Davis in surprise and per- 
haps with something like pleasure. 

‘^Miss Davis,” he began, lifting his 
officer’s cap formally, ‘^are we never to 
meet except under extraordinary circum- 
stances.^ You may not remember me, but 
I am Lieutenant Hume, Colonel Dalton’s 
aide. Perhaps you recall that unfortunate 
affair in which Miss Thornton was con- 
cerned at the Sacred Heart Hospital? But 
before that you know there was our first 
meeting at the gardener’s cottage" in Sur- 
rey.” 

It was unnecessary for Lieutenant Hume 
to present Nona with all his credentials of 
acquaintance. For at this instant she was 
too unreservedly glad to see him. To 
have discovered some one whom she knew 
at such a trying time was an unexpected 
boon. 


26 


On the French Firing Line 


‘‘I am, you see— oh, I can’t explain now,” 
Nona protested. ‘‘But, Lieutenant Hume, 
if you have nothing very important to do, 
won’t you be kind enough to put me on 
the right bus. I am trying to get back to 
our pension. And though I am sorry to be 
so stupid, I am lost and dreadfully fright- 
ened.” 

The hand that Nona now extended to 
her English acquaintance was cold with 
nervousness. 

Lieutenant Hume took it and bowed 
courteously. “Of course I will take you 
home with the greatest pleasure,” he re- 
turned. At the same time he smiled to 
himself : 

“Girls are indeed strange creatures, say 
what you will ! Here is a young American 
girl who has been doing Red Cross work 
near the battlefield. She has been able to 
keep her head and remain cool and collected 
among war’s horrors, but because she has 
been spoken to on the street by a young 
ruffian she is terrified and confused.” 
Possibly she would have scorned his protec- 
tion in the face of an artillery charge, when 


Another Meeting 


27 


under the present conditions a masculine 
protector was fairly useful. 

Now for the first time the young French 
officer spoke. He had just given his cap- 
tive a rough shake and then straightened 
him up again after a second attempt to get 
away. 

‘‘What shall I do with this fellow, Made- 
moiselle.^” he asked, speaking English with 
difficulty, but showing extraordinarily white, 
even teeth under a small, dark moustache. 
Indeed, Nona decided that she had never 
seen a more charming and debonair figure 
than the young French officer, when he 
finally engaged her attention. He could 
scarcely have been more than five feet, 
four inches tall, yet his figure was perfectly 
built. He was slender, but from the casual 
fashion in which he gripped the other man, 
who was several inches taller and far 
heavier, he must have been extraordinarily 
strong. 

“Oh, let the man go, please,” Nona mur- 
mured weakly. “Yes, I know I should 
have you turn him over to a gendarme and 
appear against him in court, but really I 
should hate doing it.” 


28 


On the French Firing Line 


The girl smiled at the young French 
officer’s evident disappointment. He made 
no protest, however; only he gave the 
man another half-savage shake and said 
rapidly in French: 

‘‘Why aren’t you with the army, you 
miserable loafer? Your name at once?” 
Then, when the offender mumbled some- 
thing indistinguishable: “Report to me 
at the barracks tomorrow. Oh, I shall 
find you again, never fear, and it will then 
be imprisonment for you.” 

The moment after the man had run away 
the French officer stood at attention with 
his shoulders erect and his feet together. 
The next he bowed to Nona in an exquis- 
itely correct fashion, as Lieutenant Hume 
introduced him. 

“Miss Davis, my friend, Captain Henri 
Castaigne, one of the youngest captains in 
the French army.” Lieutenant Hume then 
added boyishly: “Tomorrow he is to be 
presented with the Cross of the Legion of 
Honor.” 

Nona was naturally impressed by such 
an introduction. But evidently the young 


Another Meeting 


29 


officer preferred not having his praises 
sung to a complete stranger. He pretended 
not even to have heard his friend’s last 
remark. 

^‘1 will say au revoir,” he returned gra- 
ciously. “Since you and Lieutenant Hume 
are old acquaintances, he will prefer to take 
you to your friends unaccompanied by me.” 

He was about to withdraw when Nona 
interposed. 

“But you must have had some engage- 
ment together for the evening. Now if 
you separate on my account your evening 
will be spoiled. So please don’t trouble 
to take me all the way to the pension; just 
find my omnibus and ” 

Both young men laughed. The idea of 
leaving a girl alone in such an extremity 
was of course an absurdity. 

“Oh, come along, Henri, Miss Davis will 
be able to endure your society for a few 
moments as long as I was braced to endure 
it all evening.” Lieutenant Hume added: 
“Besides, it may help your education to 
talk to an American girl. Castaigne does 
not know a thing except military tactics; 


30 


On the French Firing Line 


he is rather a duffer/’ the English officer 
continued half proudly and half with a 
pretense of contempt. It was not difficult 
to discover that there was a good deal of 
affection existing between the two young 
officers of the Allied armies. 

Nona wondered how they happened to 
know each other so intimately. 

‘‘By the way, Lieutenant Hume,” she 
asked, when they had finally reached the 
desired square and stood waiting their turn 
on the overcrowded omnibus. “How in 
the world do you chance to be in Paris 
instead of at the front The last time I 
heard of you, you were in the midst of 
desperate fighting.” 

The young man answered so quietly 
that no one except his two companions 
could hear. “I am in Paris on a private 
mission for the British Government. I 
am not at liberty to say anything more.” 

Nona flushed, a little confused at having 
appeared to be curious when she had only 
meant to be friendly. But immediately 
Lieutenant Hume inquired : 

“May I ask the same question of you.^ 


Another Meeting 


31 


How do you chance to be in Paris? Did 
you come here after the Sacred Heart Hos- 
pital was closed. I knew that one side of 
it had been struck by a shell and partly 
destroyed.” 

Nona nodded. ‘‘Yes, but let us not talk 
of that now, if you don’t mind. We had to 
move the wounded soldiers, the supplies 
and everything in a tremendous hurry. 
So we are resting now for a short time and 
afterwards mean to go into southern France 
to help with the hospital work there. But 
hasn’t tonight’s celebration been too won- 
derful? It is the very first victory I have 
ever helped to celebrate and it has made 
me very happy.” 

“Then you are not entirely neutral, as 
you Americans are supposed to be?” Lieu- 
tenant Hume queried, waiting with more 
interest than was natural for his com- 
panion’s reply. “I thought Red Cross 
doctors and nurses were expected to have 
no feeling about the war.” 

Nona hesitated. “Of course, that is true 
so far as our nursing goes,” she replied. 
“Naturally I would nurse any soldier with- 


32 


On the French Firing Line 


out its making the least difference what his 
nationality might be. But when it comes 
to a question of my own personal feeling, 
well, that is a different matter.” 

Nona’s answer was a little incoherent; 
nevertheless, her companion seemed to find 
it satisfactory. 

On arriving at the pension Eugenia her- 
self opened the door. The concierge had 
previously admitted the girl and her two 
escorts to the ground floor. 

The apartment where the four girls and 
Dick Thornton were at present boarding 
occupied the third floor of an old house 
that had once belonged to an ancient 
French family and had afterwards been 
converted into an apartment building. Such 
houses are common in Paris. The atmos- 
phere of this one was gloomy and imposing 
and the hallway very dark. 

At first Eugenia only saw Nona outside 
or she might have been more amiable. 
However, she had been so frightened for 
the past hour that she was thoroughly 
angry, an effect fright often has upon 
people. 


Another Meeting 


33 


‘^Nona, what does this mean?’’ she de- 
manded, speaking like an outraged school- 
marm. ‘‘You have given us one of the 
worst hours any one of us has ever spent. 
Why did you not come along with the rest 
of us? Of course, no one wished to leave; 
it was quite as much of a sacrifice for us 
as for you. Now Mildred and Barbara 
and Dick have had to go back to look for 
you and to inform the police of your disap- 
pearance. I have waited here, hoping for 
a message from them or you.” 

“Yes, I know. I am dreadfully sorry,” 
Nona replied more apologetically than she 
actually felt. Naturally regretting the 
trouble she had given, yet she did not enjoy 
being scolded before entire strangers. 

“Eugenia,” she protested, changing the 
tone of her voice in an efifort to stem the 
tide of her friend’s resentment, “I was so 
fortunate as to meet Lieutenant Hume on 
the street. You may recall he was Colonel 
Dalton’s companion when he visited the 
Sacred Heart Hospital. He and his friend 
have been good enough to bring me home. 
I should like to have you meet them.” 


34 


On the French Firing Line 


Certainly Eugenia was somewhat non- 
plussed on discovering that there had been 
an audience to overhear her reproaches. 
Still she was no less offended. However, 
she could not exactly make up her mind to 
refuse to be introduced to Nona’s acquaint- 
ances, who had undoubtedly been kind. 

The result was that she was stiffer and 
colder than ever before as she stalked 
ahead into the pension drawing room, 
leaving the younger girl and the two men 
to follow her. 

Moreover, Eugenia undoubtedly looked 
plain, partly as the result of her severe 
mood and partly of her fatigue and anxiety. 
She had removed her street suit and was 
wearing a gray frock that might have been 
cut out by the village carpenter, so free was 
it from any possible grace or prettiness. 
The dress had been intended to be useful 
and undoubtedly had been, for Eugenia 
must have been wearing it for the past five 
years. 

But Eugenia really believed that she was 
fairly gracious to the two young officers. 
She shook hands with both of them and 


Another Meeting 


35 


asked them to be seated. She even thanked 
them for escorting the scapegrace home, yet 
all in a manner that suggested ice trying 
to thaw on an impossibly cold day. 

Lieutenant Hume paid but little atten- 
tion to her, being frankly too much inter- 
ested in Nona Davis to do more than be 
polite to Miss Peabody, whom he regarded 
strictly in the light of a chaperon. 

But to Captain Castaigne Eugenia was 
at once a puzzle and an amusement. In 
his life he had never seen any one in the 
least like her. 

The young French officer belonged to an 
old and aristocratic French family. Had 
France remained a monarchy instead of 
becoming a republic, he would have held 
a distinguished title. He was not a native 
of Paris, for he had been brought up in the 
country with his mother upon their im- 
poverished estate. Later, as she con- 
sidered a soldier’s life the only one possible 
for her son, he had attended a military 
school for officers. So it was true that he 
knew but little of women. However, those 
he had met previously had been his mother’s 


36 


On the French Firing Line 


friends and their daughters. They were 
women with charming, gracious manners, 
of unusual culture and refinement. More- 
over, they had always been extremely kind 
to him. Now this remarkable young 
American woman paid no more attention 
to him than if he had been a wooden figure, 
and perhaps not so much. Her appear- 
ance and manner recalled an officer whom 
he had once had as a teacher. His colonel 
had been just such a tall, stern person, who 
having given his orders expected them to 
be obeyed without demur. So the young 
French officer was torn between his desire 
to laugh, which of course his perfect 
manners made impossible, and his desire 
to offer this Miss Peabody a military 
salute. 

She spoke the most extraordinary French 
he had ever heard in his life. Her gram- 
mar was possibly correct, but such another 
accent had never been listened to on sea or 
land. Captain Castaigne was not familiar 
with Americans, so how could he know 
that Eugenia spoke French with a Boston 
intonation ? 


Another Meeting 


37 


Ten, fifteen minutes elapsed, while con- 
versation between Eugenia and the French 
officer became more and more impossible. 
Nevertheless his friend failed to regard 
Captain Castaigne’s imploring glances. 

At last the English officer realized that 
their call was becoming unduly long under 
the circumstances. Yet before saying fare- 
well he managed a few moments of con- 
fidential conversation with Nona. 

^^You will persuade your friends to come 
to the Review tomorrow? I shall call for 
you more than an hour ahead of time. 
President Poincare himself is to present 
decorations to a dozen soldiers. I say it 
would be rotten for you to miss it.” 

Undoubtedly Nona agreed with him. 
“You are awfully kind. I accept for us 
all with pleasure and shall look forward 
then to tomorrow,” she returned. ‘‘Thank 
you again for tonight, and good-by.” 


CHAPTER III 


The Cross of the Legion of Honor 
HAT night just before falling asleep 



Nona Davis had an unexpected 


flash of thought. It was odd that 
Lieutenant Hume, who had been a friend 
in need, should turn out to be such a well- 
educated and attractive fellow. More- 
over, how did it happen that he was a 
British officer? Now and then for some 
especial act of valor, or for some especial 
ability, a man was raised from the ranks. 
Yet Nona did not believe either of these 
things to have happened in Lieutenant 
Hume’s case. 

What was the answer to the puzzle? 
He was the son of a gardener and she her- 
self had seen his Mother Susan, a com- 
fortable old lady with twinkling brown 
eyes, red cheeks, a large bosom and a round 
waist to match. Surely it was difficult to 
conceive of her as the mother of such a son ! 


( 38 ) 


The Cross of the Legion of Honor 39 


And especially in England where it was so 
difficult to rise above one’s environment. 

Although tired and sleepy, Nona devoted 
another ten minutes to her riddle. Then 
all at once the answer appeared plain 
enough. Lieutenant Hume had doubtless 
been brought up as the foster brother of a 
boy of nobler birth and greater riches than 
he himself possessed. Then, doubtless, 
seeing his unusual abilities, he had been 
given unusual opportunities. Nona had 
read English novels in which just such 
interesting situations occurred, so she felt 
rather pleased with her own discernment. 
However, if it were possible to introduce 
the subject without being rude, she intended 
to make sure of her impression by ques- 
tioning Lieutenant Hume. One might so 
easily begin by discussing English litera- 
ture, a subject certainly broad enough in 
itself. Then one could mention a particu- 
lar book, where a foster brother played a 
conspicuous part. But while trying to 
recall a story with just the exact situation 
she required, Nona went to sleep. 

She and Barbara shared the same room. 


40 


On the French Firing Line 


But fortunately no one of her other friends 
had been so severe as Eugenia. However, 
after the departure of the two young men, 
realizing that she had been tiresome, Nona 
had been sufficiently contrite to appease 
even Eugenia. 

The next morning at dejeuner Dick Thorn- 
ton declared that Nona’s adventure had 
really resulted in good fortune for all of 
them. More than most things he had 
desired to attend the review of the fresh 
troops about to leave Paris for the firing 
line. Moreover, it would be uncommonly 
interesting to see the presentation of the 
decorations by the French President. And 
if Nona had not chanced to meet Lieu- 
tenant Hume and his friend, neither of 
these opportunities would have been theirs. 
Dick had no chance of securing the special 
invitations and tickets necessary for seats 
in the reviewing stand. Privately Dick 
had intended escaping from the four girls 
to witness the scene alone. But now as 
Lieutenant Hume had invited all of them 
it would be unnecessary to make this con- 
fession. 


The Cross of the Legion of Honor 41 


The review was to take place on a level 
stretch of country just outside Paris be- 
tween St. Cloud and the Bois. 

Having in some magical fashion secured 
two antiquated taxicabs, Lieutenant Hume 
arrived next day at the pension. He and 
Nona and Eugenia started off in one of 
them, with Barbara, Mildred and Dick in 
the other. 

During the ride into the country Lieu- 
tenant Hume talked the greater part of the 
time about his friend. Captain Castaigne, 
whom Nona and Eugenia had met the eve- 
ning before. The two men had only known 
each other since the outbreak of the war, 
yet a devoted friendship had developed 
between them. 

Indeed, Nona smiled to herself over 
Lieutenant Hume’s enthusiasm; it was so 
unlike an Englishman to reveal such deep 
feeling. But for the time being Captain 
Henri Castaigne was one of the idols of 
Paris. The day’s newspapers were full of 
the gallant deed that had won him the 
right to the military order France holds 
most dear, “The Cross of the Legion of 
Honor.” 


42 


On the French Firing Line 


Nevertheless, during the early part of 
the conversation Eugenia scarcely listened. 
She was too busily and happily engaged in 
watching the sights about her. Paris was 
having a curious effect upon the New Eng- 
land girl, one that she did not exactly under- 
stand. She was both shocked and fasci- 
nated by it. 

In the first place, she had not antici- 
pated liking Paris. She had only con- 
sented to make the trip because they were 
in need of rest and the other girls had 
chosen Paris. Everything she had ever 
heard or read concerning Paris had made 
her feel prejudiced against the city. More- 
over, it was totally unlike Eastport, Massa- 
chusetts, where Eugenia had been born and 
bred and where she had received most of 
her ideas of life. 

Yet there was no denying that there was 
something about Paris that took hold even 
of Eugenia Peabody’s repressed imagina- 
tion. 

It was a brilliant autumn afternoon. 
The taxicab rattled along the Champs 
Elysees, under the marvelous Arc de Tri- 


The Cross of the Legion of Honor 43 


omphe and then turned into the wooded 
spaces of the Bois. 

Every now and then Eugenia found a 
lump rising in her throat and her heart 
beating curiously fast. It was all so beauti- 
ful, both in art and nature. Surely it was 
impossible to believe that there could be 
an enemy mad enough to destroy a city 
that could never be restored to its former 
loveliness. 

Perchance the war had purified Paris, 
taking away its uglier side in the healing 
influence of patriotism. For even Euge- 
nia’s New England eyes and conscience could 
find but little to criticize. Naturally many 
of the costumes worn by the young women 
she considered reprehensible. The colors 
were too bright, the skirts were too short. 
French women were really too stylish for 
her severer tastes. For there was little 
black to be seen. This was a gala after- 
noon, so whatever one’s personal sorrow, 
today Paris honored the living. 

Before Eugenia consented to listen Lieu- 
tenant Hume had arrived in the middle of 
his story, and then she listened only half- 


44 


On the French Firing Line 


heartedly. She was interested chiefly be- 
cause the young Captain she had met the 
evening before was so far from one’s idea 
of a hero. He was more like a figure of a 
manikin dressed to represent an officer and 
set up in a shop window. His features 
were too perfect, he was too graceful, too 
debonair! But in truth Eugenia’s idea of 
a soldier must still have been represented 
by the type of man who, shouldering a 
musket and still in his farmer’s clothes, 
marched out to meet the enemy at Bunker 
Hill. 

Some day Eugenia would learn that it 
takes all manner of men and women to 
make a world. And that there are worth- 
while people and things that do not come 
from Boston. 

^^He was in the face of the enemy’s fire 
when a shell exploded under his horse,” 
Lieutenant Hume explained. ^‘He and the 
horse were shot twenty feet in the air. 
When they came down to earth again there 
was an immense hole in the ground beneath 
them and both man and horse were plunged 
into it. Rather like having one’s grave 
dug ahead of time, isn’t it.^” 


The Cross of the Legion of Honor 45 


Nona nodded, leaning across from her 
seat in the cab with her golden brown eyes 
darkening with excitement and her hands 
clasped tight together in her lap. 

Eugenia kept her eyes upon her even 
while giving her attention to the narrative. 
Personally she considered Nona unusually 
pretty and attractive and the idea worried 
her now and then. For there were to be no 
romances if she could prevent them while 
the four American Red Cross girls were in 
Europe. If they wished such undesirable 
possessions as husbands they must wait and 
marry their own countrymen. 

‘‘But Captain Castaigne was not hurt.^ 
So he still managed to carry the messages 
to his General?” Nona demanded. She 
was much interested in getting the details 
of the story before seeing its hero again. 

Robert Hume was talking quietly. Never- 
theless it was self-evident that he was only 
pretending to his casual tone. 

“Of course Captain Castaigne was in- 
jured. There would have been no reason 
why any notice should have been taken of 
him if he had only done his ordinary duty. 


46 


On the French Firing Line 


Fact is, when he crawled out he was covered 
with blood and nearly dead. The horse 
was killed outright and Henri almost so. 
Nevertheless he managed to run on foot 
under heavy lire to headquarters with his 
message. No one knows how he accom- 
plished it and he knows least of all. He 
simply is the kind of fellow who does the 
thing he starts out to do. We Anglo- 
Saxons don’t always understand the iron 
purpose under the charm and good looks 
these French fellows have. But fortunately 
we don’t often use cavalrymen now for 
carrying despatches. Motor cars do the 
work better when there is no telephone 
connection.” 

‘‘Yes, and I’m truly glad,” Nona mur- 
mured softly. She was thinking of how 
many gallant young cavalry officers both 
in France and England those first terrible 
months of the war had cut down, before the 
lessons of the new warfare had been learned. 

But Eugenia had now awakened to a 
slight interest in the conversation. 

“Your young friend looks fit enough 
now,” she remarked dryly. 


The Cross of the Legion of Honor 47 


The English officer was not pleased with 
Eugenia’s tone. ‘‘Nevertheless, Captain 
Castaigne has been dangerously ill in a hos- 
pital for many months, although he is re- 
turning to his regiment tomorrow.” 

After this speech there was no further 
opportunity for conversation. The two 
cabs had driven through the Bois and were 
now in sight of the field where the review 
was to be held. 

Drawn up at the left were two new regi- 
ments about to depart for the front. Most 
of the soldiers were boys of nineteen who 
would have finished their terms of military 
service in the following year, but because 
of necessity were answering France’s call 
today. They were wearing the new French 
uniform of gray, which is made for real 
service, and not the old-fashioned one with 
the dark-blue coat and crimson trousers. 
These too often formed conspicuous targets 
for the enemy’s guns. 

Across from the recruits stood another line 
of about fifty men. They were old men 
with gray hair. If their shoulders were 
still erect and their heads up it was not 


48 


On the French Firing Line 


because this was now their familiar carri- 
age. It was because this great day had 
inspired them. For they were the old 
soldiers who had been gallant fighters in 
1870, when France had fought her other 
war with Germany. Now they were too old 
to be sent to the firing line. Nevertheless, 
each one of them was privately armed and 
ready to defend his beloved Paris to the 
last gasp should the enemy again come to 
possess it. 

Between the two lines and on horseback 
were President Poincare, France’s new war 
minister and half a dozen other members of 
the Cabinet. 

Then standing in a small group separated 
from the others were the soldiers who were 
about to be decorated for especial bravery. 

While Lieutenant Hume was struggling 
to find places for his guests, Nona was 
vainly endeavoring to discover the young 
French officer whom she had met so unex- 
pectedly the evening before. She was 
anxious to point him out to Mildred and 
Dick and Barbara. 

But after they were seated it was Eugenia 


The Cross of the Legion of Honor 49 


who found him first. Captain Castaigne 
was wearing an ordinary service uniform 
with no other decorations besides the em- 
blems of his rank. 

Then a few moments later President 
Poincare and his staif dismounted. 

The four American girls were distinctly 
disappointed by the French President’s 
appearance. He is a small, stout man with 
a beard, very middle class and uninteresting 
looking. Yet he has managed to hold 
France together in times of peace and of 
war. 

This was indeed a great day for Paris. 
Rarely are medals for bravery bestowed 
upon the soldiers save near the scene of 
battle by the officers in command. Yet 
there was little noise and shouting among 
the crowd as there had been the evening 
before. They were unusually silent, the 
women and girls not trying now to keep 
back the tears. 

Sixty-four buglers sounded a salute. 
Then President Poincare marched forward 
and shook hands with every soldier in the 
group of twelve. Eleven of them were to 


50 


On the French Firing Line 


receive the new French decoration which is 
known as the “Croix de Guerre.’’ This is 
a medal formed of two crossed swords and 
having a profile of a figure representing 
the French Republic in the center. But 
Captain Castaigne alone was to be honored 
with the Cross of the Legion of Honor. 

First President Poincare pinned the 
medal on the breast of a boy sentry. He 
had stood at the mouth of a trench as the 
Germans approached, and though wounded 
in half a dozen places had continued to fire 
until his companions had been warned of 
the attack. 

Then one after the other each soldier re- 
ceived his country’s thanks and the recog- 
nition of his especial bravery until at 
length President Poincare came to young 
Captain Castaigne. 

One does not know exactly what it was 
in the young man’s appearance that touched 
the older man. Perhaps when you learn 
to know more of his character you will be 
better able to understand. For after the 
President had bestowed the higher decora- 
tion upon the young captain, he leaned 
over and kissed him. 


The Cross of the Legion of Honor 51 


Eugenia Peabody had an excellent view 
of the entire proceeding. Though her lips 
curled sarcastically, strangely enough her 
eyes felt absurdly misty. She much dis- 
liked this French custom of the men kiss- 
ing each other, for Eugenia believed very 
little in kissing between either men or 
women. Nevertheless, she did feel dis- 
turbed by the whole performance, and 
hoped that her friends were too much en- 
gaged to pay attention to her. Above all 
things Eugenia desired that Barbara Meade 
should not observe her weakness. She 
knew Barbara would never grow weary 
hereafter of referring to the amazement of 
Eugenia’s giving way to tears in public 
and without any possible excuse. 

Ten minutes later the review began with 
a blare of trumpets. Then gravely the 
new regiments passed before the Presi- 
dent and his officers. Afterwards they 
marched away until a cloud of dust hid them 
and there was nothing for the spectators 
to do but return to their own homes. 

Nevertheless, the young French Captain 
managed to make his way to his English 


52 


On the French Firing Line 


friend. He appeared as indifferent and as 
debonair as he had the evening before. 
One could never have guessed that he had 
just received the greatest honor of his life, 
and an honor given to but few men. 

Reference to his decoration he pretended 
not to be able to understand, although 
Mildred, Barbara and Dick tried to com- 
pliment him with their best school French. 

But beyond inclining her head frostily, 
Eugenia made no attempt at a further 
acquaintance with the young soldier. 

However, several times when he believed 
no one was observing him, Captain Cas- 
taigne stole a furtive glance at Eugenia. 

She was somewhat better looking than 
she had been the evening before, yet she 
was by no means a beauty. Moreover, 
she was still a puzzle. 

Then the boy — ^for after all he was only 
twenty-three — swallowed a laugh. At last 
he had found a real place for Eugenia. No 
wonder he had thought of his former 
colonel. Recently he had learned that a 
regiment of women in Paris were in train- 
ing as soldiers. He could readily behold 
Eugenia in command. 


The Cross of the Legion of Honor 53 


The other three American girls were 
charming and he was glad to have met 
them. But Eugenia he trusted he might 
never see again. He was glad to be return- 
ing to the firing line next day. Let heaven 
preserve him from further acquaintance 
with such an unattractive person! 


CHAPTER IV 


On the Roof 

O NE week longer the American Red 
Cross girls remained in Paris. They 
were only tourists for these brief, 
passing days. Yet all the while they were 
waiting for orders. After having nursed 
the British soldiers for a number of months, 
when the Sacred Heart Hospital was no 
longer in existence, they had concluded 
to offer their services to France. 

Therefore, like soldiers, they also were 
ready upon short notice to start for the 
front. But in the meantime there was 
Paris to be investigated, where the October 
days were like jewels. One saw all that it 
was humanly possible to see of pictures 
and people and parks and then came home 
to dream of the statues in the Luxembourg, 
or of Venus in her shaded corner in the 
Louvre, or else of the figure of Victory mid- 
way up the Louvre’s central staircase. 

( 54 ) 


On the Roof 


55 


To one another the girls confessed that 
it was difficult to think of war so near at 
hand, or of the experiences through which 
they had so lately passed. Yet one saw the 
streets full of soldiers and knew that a great 
line of fortifications encircled Paris, such as 
few cities have ever had In the world’s 
history. Also, there were always guns 
mounted on high towers waiting for the 
coming of the Zeppelin raid. 

^‘Then one night, as luck would have it,” 
Barbara insisted, ‘‘the raid came just in 
the nick of time. For how could the Ger- 
mans have dreamed that we were leaving 
for southern France the next morning?” 

Nevertheless, the luggage of the Red 
Cross girls was actually packed and in spite 
of war times the girls had added to the 
amount. Moreover, they were due to take 
the ten o’clock train next day at the Gare 
de Lyons. So because they were wear}^, a 
little sorry at having to leave Paris, and 
yet curious of the new adventures ahead, 
the four girls retired early. 

In one way Paris has conspicuously 
changed since the outbreak of the war. 


56 


On the French Firing Line 


She has become an early-to-bed city and 
except on special occasions her cafes are 
all closed after dark. 

So Dick Thornton, although not leaving 
with the girls the next day, found little to 
amuse him on the same evening. He had 
said good-night soon after dinner and then 
gone for a long walk. For in truth he did 
not wish to have an intimate farewell talk 
with his sister or any one of her friends. 

The hazards of war had used Dick pretty 
severely. He had not come to Europe to 
act as a soldier; nevertheless, in a tragically 
short time, before he had even begun to 
be fairly useful, he had paid a cruel penalty. 
Dick believed that he would never again 
be able to use his right arm. 

He did not intend, however, to allow this 
to make him morose or disagreeable and so 
seldom spoke of it. But now and then he 
used to desert his four feminine com- 
panions and walking through the semi- 
darkened streets of Paris try to work out a 
solution for his future. 

So by chance it was Dick who gave the 
alarm to the household on the night of 
Paris^ long-anticipated Zeppelin raid. 


On the Roof 


57 


He had just come home and was stand- 
ing idly before the door waiting to awaken 
the concierge who presides over the des- 
tinies of all Parisian apartment houses. 
A beautiful night, the sky was thickly 
studded with stars, although there was no 
moon. 

Suddenly Dick heard a tremendous ex- 
plosion. Naturally his first thought was a 
bomb and then he smiled at himself. In 
war times every noise suggested a bomb. 
This noise may have been nothing but an 
unusually loud automobile tire explosion. 
However, Dick was not particularly con- 
vinced by his own suggestion. He remained 
quiet for another moment with all his 
senses acute. The streets in his neighbor- 
hood had been well-nigh deserted at the 
moment of the shock. If it were nothing 
they would still continue so. A brief 
time only was necessary for finding out. 
For an instant later windows were thrown 
open and every variety of heads thrust 
forth with eyes upturned toward the sky. 

Then a fire engine rattled by and afar 
off a bugle call sounded. 


58 


On the French Firing Line 


That moment Dick pounded at the closed 
door of their house, but the concierge was 
already awake and let him in at once. 
Then with a few bounds he cleared the 
steps and stood knocking at his sister’s 
bedroom door. 

‘‘Something startling is happening, I 
don’t know exactly what,” he announced 
hurriedly. “But you girls had best get on 
some clothes and come out. I am going 
up on the roof. If it is a Zeppelin raid the 
city officials have warned people to go down 
to the cellars. I’ll let you know in half a 
minute.” 

But in half a minute Dick did not 
return. There seemed to be no danger for 
the present at least, and besides he had a 
masculine contempt for the length of time 
it takes girls to put on their clothes, even 
in times of emergency. Moreover, he kept 
staring up at the heavens too entranced by 
the spectacle to think of danger. 

Five Zeppelins were passing over Paris, 
the projectiles which they dropped in 
passing leaving long trails of light behind 
them. 


On the Roof 


59 


Soon after a small voice spoke at Dick’s 
elbow: “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? When I 
was a little girl I could never have be- 
lieved that I should see real fireworks like 
these.” 

Without glancing around Dick naturally- 
recognized the voice. It always amused 
him to hear Barbara talk of the days when 
she was little, as she appeared so far from 
anything else even now. 

“You had better go downstairs, little 
girl, with the other girls;” he commanded. 
“Yes, it is a wonderful spectacle, but this 
is no place for you.” 

Then hearing her laugh lightly, he did 
turn around. Assuredly Barbara could 
not go down to the other girls, since they 
were assembled on the roof with her, and 
not only the girls but a third of the people 
in the pension. They were all talking at 
once in French fashion. 

Dick felt rather helpless. 

“I thought I told you to go to the 
cellar,” he protested. But Barbara paid 
not the slightest attention to him and the 
other girls were out of hearing. 


60 


On the French Firing Line 


She was clutching his left arm excitedly. 

Now they could see the aeroplanes that 
had come out for the defense of Paris 
circling overhead and firing upon the Zeppe- 
lins and farther off in the distance the 
thunder of cannon could be heard. 

Paris is being wonderfully good to us, 
isn’t she?” Barbara whispered. ‘‘We keep 
seeing more and more amazing things.” 

Dick scoffed. “I thought you pre- 
tended to be a coward, Barbara, though it 
is difficult for me to think of you as one.” 

And to this the girl made no answer 
except, “I don’t believe any one in Paris 
is seriously frightened. A raid is not the 
terrible thing everybody feared, at least 
not one like this.” 

But Dick was not so readily convinced. 
There was a chance that these first air 
raiders were but scouts of the great army of 
German Zeppelins that London and Paris 
have both been dreading since the out- 
break of the war. 

Moreover, Dick was not alone in this 
idea. He could see now that the tops of 
all the large houses and hotels in the 


On the Roof 


61 


neighborhood, as far as one could discern, 
were thronged with as curious a crowd as 
his own. And from the streets below 
chatter and laughter and now and then cries 
of terror or admiration floated upward. 

Of course, there were many persons in 
Paris that night wiser or at least more 
prudent than the four American Red Cross 
girls, and there were a number of places 
where proper precautions were taken. 
However, no one thought of going to bed 
again. 

By and by the three other girls joined 
Barbara and Dick. But now there was 
nothing more to be seen save the stars in 
the sky which were too eternal to be appre- 
ciated. So when the noise of the can- 
nonading had at last died away Madame 
Raffet, who had charge of the pension, 
asked her guests to come down into the 
drawing room for colfee. 

The girls were cold and dismal now that 
the excitement had passed and were glad 
enough of the invitation. Dick Thornton, 
however, resolutely declined to join them. 
He was still not in the mood for cheerful 


62 


On the French Firing Line 


society, although he did not offer this 
excuse. He merely said that he always 
had wished to see the dawn steal over 
Paris and here was the opportunity of a 
lifetime, since the dawn must break now in 
a short while. 

It may be that Barbara Meade guessed 
something of her friend’s humor, for she 
went quietly away with the other girls, not 
joining her protests with theirs over Dick’s 
unusual obstinacy. 

An hour and a half passed, perhaps 
longer. Dick had found a seat on a stone 
ledge between two tall chimney stacks. It 
was a long, cold bench and he was growing 
rather tired of his bargain. Still, there 
was a grayness over things now and day- 
light must soon follow. Yet he was sorry 
he had not gone downstairs with the others; 
it would have been an easy enough business 
to have returned to his perch later and 
coffee would undoubtedly have been a 
boon. 

He was kicking his feet rather more like 
a disconsolate small boy, who had been 
sent upstairs to his room alone for punish- 


On tjie Roof 


63 


ment, than like a romantic youth about to 
pay tribute to his Mistress Paris, when 
Barbara Meade joined him for the second 
time that evening. 

However, this time he saw her coming 
and her welcome was far more enthusiastic. 

The girl had put on her long gray-blue 
nursing coat, but wore a ridiculous little 
blue silk cap pulled down over her curls. 
Moreover, Dick Thornton had to rush for- 
ward to meet her to keep her from tripping, 
since she was dragging his neglected over- 
coat with her and also trying to carry a 
thick mug of coffee. 

Dick snatched at the mug none too 
politely. 

say, you are a trump!’’ he remarked 
with such fervor, however, that any girl 
would have forgiven him. 

Then Barbara sat down beside him on 
the stone ledge and after seeing that he had 
put on the overcoat, watched him drink 
the coffee. She even added two rolls for 
his refreshment from the depth of her 
pocket. 

made the coffee for you myself. I 


64 


On the French Firing Line 


think it rather good of me,” she remarked 
placidly. “The other girls are lying down. 
But I had a fancy to see the dawn over 
Paris myself and I thought if I brought 
you a present you would not send me 
away.” 

Dick smiled, for the dawn had broken 
when Barbara came. From their tall 
roof they had a marvelous view of the 
city and the long line of beautiful bridges 
crossing the Seine. And there, not far 
away, looking as if she were built half upon 
the water and half upon land, the Church 
of Notre Dame. 

A sudden glory of red and gold bathed 
Its two perfect towers and the cross above. 
Slipping down between the grinning gar- 
goyles along its sides it dipped into the 
river below. In another direction Mont- 
martre was shimmering like a rainbow, 
steeped in the colors and the glories of 
romance. 

Barbara shivered over the strange beauty 
after the excitement of the night before. 
And although Dick was there and they 
were good friends, she wished that one of 
the girls had also been her companion. It 


On the Roof 


65 


was a time when she would have liked to 
put her hand inside a friend^s just for the 
sense of warm human companionship. 

But Dick was not at the moment look- 
ing or thinking of her. It was hardly to be 
wondered at, the girl thought with the old 
grace of a smile at herself. There were so 
many better things to see. Yet it gave 
her the chance for a farewell study of 
him. They were to part now In a short 
time, for how long neither of them knew. 

The next instant Barbara regretted her 
decision. For how wretchedly Dick Thorn- 
ton was looking! Could any one believe 
that only a little over a year had passed 
since their first meeting on the March night 
when she had arrived so unceremoniously 
at his father’s house. Certainly Dick had 
been more than kind to her even then. 

A moment later when Dick did chance 
to glance toward his companion she was 
crying hard but silently. 

Once or twice before Dick had been sur- 
prised at Barbara Meade’s unexpected 
tears, but now he understood them at 
once. 


5 


66 


On the French Firing Line 


He offered her the comfort she had 
wished a little while before. Gently he 
took her hand inside his left one. 

‘H know you are thinking of me, Barbara, 
and this tiresome old arm of mine. It is 
tremendously kind of you,” he protested. 
‘‘But I want you to promise me not to 
worry and to keep Mill from fretting if 
you can. I hate you girls to go off to 
work again without me, but IVe made up 
my mind to stay around Paris for a few 
months. Pm rather glad to have this 
chance to explain things to you. Of 
course, you know that when that shell 
shattered my shoulder it seemed to para- 
lyze my arm. Well, I have not given up 
hope that something may yet be done for 
it. So as soon as I can get hold of one 
of the big surgeons here in Paris I want 
him to have a try at me. They are fairly 
busy these days with people who are of 
more account, but if I hang around long 
enough some one will find time to look 
after me. You know I have never told, 
nor let Mildred tell mother and father just 
how serious things are with me. But if 


On the Roof 


67 


nothing can be done I’ve made up my 
mind to go home and find out what a one- 
armed man can do to be useful. He isn’t 
much good over here at present. You see, 
Barbara, I have not yet forgotten your 
New York lectures on the duty and beauty 
of usefulness.” 

Dick said this in a laughing voice, with 
no intention of attempting the heroic, so 
Barbara did her best to answer in the same 
spirit. 

Nevertheless, she had never gotten over 
her sense of responsibility and might always 
continue to feel it. 

‘‘Oh, I am sure something can be done,” 
she answered, forcing herself to speak 
bravely. “But in any case you will come 
and say good-by to Mill and the rest of 
us before you sail, won’t you.^” she con- 
cluded. 

Dick nodded, but by this time they had 
both gotten up and were walking across the 
roof top side by side. 

“I say, Barbara,” Dick added shyly just 
at the moment of parting, “however things 
turn out, promise me you won’t take it 


68 


On the French Firing Line 


too seriously. Somehow I can’t say things 
as well as other fellows, but I’m not sorry 
I came over, in spite of this plagued arm 
of mine. I don’t know why exactly, but 
this war business makes a man of one. 
Then when one thinks of what other fel- 
lows are having to give up — oh well, I read 
a poem by an Englishman who was killed 
the other day. Would you mind my 
reciting the last lines to you.^” 

Then taking the girl’s consent for granted, 
Dick went on in a grave young voice that 
had much of the beauty which Barbara 
remembered in his song the year before. 

‘‘His name was Rupert Brooke and he 
wrote of the men who were going to die as 
he did: 

“Those laid the world away; poured out the red 
Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be 
Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene 
That men call age; and those who would have been 
Their sons, they gave — their immortality.” 


CHAPTER V 


Other Fields 

T he work which the American girls 
were to do for the French Croix de 
Rouge (Red Cross) was to be accom- 
plished under entirely different circum- 
stances. 

They traveled southeast nearly an entire 
day and toward evening were driven 
through a thickly wooded country to the 
edge of the Forest of Le Pretre. 

An American field hospital, an exact 
duplicate of those used in America, had 
recently been presented to the French 
Government by three Americans who de- 
sired that their identity be kept a secret. 
The hospital was made up of twenty tents- 
six of them large enough to take care of 
two hundred wounded men. And these 
hospital tents could be put up in fifteen 
minutes and taken down in six by the 
American ambulance volunteers, many of 

( 69 ) 


70 


On the French Firing Line 


them students from Columbia, Harvard, 
Williams and other American universities. 

So it was thought fitting that the four 
American Red Cross girls, who had lately 
offered their services to France, should 
assist in the nursing at these new hos- 
pitals. They had been located in southern 
France near the lines and just beyond the 
reach of the enemy’s guns. 

Therefore it was self-evident that dif- 
ferent living arrangements would have to 
be made for the nurses. So Nona, Bar- 
bara, Mildred and even Eugenia were 
unfeignedly glad when they learned that 
they were to live together in a tiny French 
farmhouse within short walking distance 
of the field hospital. There they were to 
do their own housekeeping, with the assist- 
ance of an old man who would take charge 
of the outdoor work. 

The farmhouse had been offered for their 
use by the French countess who was the 
owner of an ancient chateau about a mile 
away. Indeed, the farmhouse lay within 
the boundaries of her lands. 

When the girls first tumbled out of the 


Other Fields 


71 


carriage they were too tired to be more 
than half-way curious over their new abode. 
But half an hour later they were investi- 
gating the entire place with delight. 

This was because they had already rested 
and eaten a supper that would have served 
for all the good little princesses in the fairy 
stories. 

Naturally the girls had expected to find 
their little house empty. But no sooner 
had they started up the cobblestone path 
to the blue front door when an old man 
appeared on the threshold, bowing with 
the grace of an eighteenth century courtier. 
He was only Francois, the old French peas- 
ant who was to be of what service he could 
to them. 

There in the clean-scrubbed dining room 
stood a round oak table set with odd pieces 
of china, white and blue and gold, hun- 
dreds of years old and more valuable than 
any but a connoisseur could appreciate. 

Francois himself waited to serve supper. 
The Countess, whose servant he had been 
for fifty years, had sent over the food — a 
pitcher of new milk, a square of golden 


72 


On the French Firing Line 


honey, petit fromage, which is a delicious 
cream cheese that only the French can 
make, and a great bowl of wild straw- 
berries, which ripen in autumn in southern 
France. Besides this there was a big loaf 
of snowy bread. 

Barbara straightway threw her bonnet 
and coat aside. Then as she found the 
first place at the table she exclaimed, “So 
this is what one has to eat in France in 
war times!” 

A few moments later Mildred took her 
place at what was hereafter to be known as 
the head of the table, with Eugenia just 
across and Barbara and Nona on either 
side. For so almost unconsciously the 
little family of four girls arranged them- 
selves. Although it was not until later 
that Mildred Thornton was to prove the 
real authority in domestic matters, while 
Eugenia continued to regard herself as 
intellectual head of the family, with Nona 
and Barbara as talented but at times tire- 
some children. 

However, after thanks and good-byes 
were said to old Francois, the girls started 


Other Fields 


73 


on their tour of the little house. Evi- 
dently it had belonged to real farmer 
people who must have worked some of the 
land of the countess. Doubtless the men 
had gone to war and the women found 
employment elsewhere. 

The farmhouse was only one story and 
a half high, with the kitchen and dining 
room below, but above there were four 
small bedrooms with a single window each 
and sloping ceilings. But the charming 
thing was that the walls were of rough 
plaster painted in beautiful colors — one 
rose, one blue, one yellow and the other 
lavender. 

So the girls chose each the color she most 
loved — Barbara the blue, Nona the pink, 
Mildred the lavender, and Eugenia, pro- 
fessing not to care, the yellow. 

It was just about dusk when they 
finally came outdoors again for a better 
view of the house itself. They had scarcely 
done more than glanced at it on entering. 

The farmhouse was built of wood which 
had once been white but was now a light 
gray with the most wonderful turquoise 
blue door and shutters. 


74 


On the French Firing Line 


Indeed, the girls were to find out later 
that the little place was known in the 
neighborhood roundabout as ‘‘The House 
with the Blue Front Door.” 

But though the house was so delightful 
that the girls had almost forgotten the 
sadness of their errand to the country, the 
landscape was far less cheerful. 

A row of poplar trees, already half 
stripped of their leaves, formed a wind- 
break at one side of the house. Growing 
close on the farther side were a dozen pine 
trees, suggesting gloomy sentinels left to 
guard the deserted place. 

There were no other houses in sight. 

“I wonder where the chateau is.^” Bar- 
bara asked a trifle wistfully. “I suppose 
if our services are not required at the 
hospital at once we might go in the morn- 
ing to call on the Countess to thank her for 
her kindness.” 

Immediately Eugenia frowned upon the 
suggestion. She was a little depressed by 
the neighborhood, now that evening was 
coming on, and she still found it difficult 
to agree often with Barbara. 


Other Fields 


75 


‘^Of course we shall do no such thing,” 
she answered curtly. ‘‘Exchanging friendly 
visits with new and unknown neighbors 
may be a western custom, but so far as I 
have been told it is assuredly not the cus- 
tom in France. Why, there are no such 
exclusive persons in the world as the old 
French nobility, of which this countess is 
a member. Can’t you just imagine what 
she would think of the forwardness of 
American girls if we should intrude upon 
her in such a fashion.” 

“Oh,” Barbara replied in a rather crest- 
fallen voice as Nona put her arm across her 
shoulder. Then they started into the house 
together. A little later, however, she 
regained a part of her spirit, which Eugenia 
and the coming of night had crushed. 

“I wonder, Eugenia,” she inquired in the 
soft tones in which she was most dangerous, 
“how you have learned so much concern- 
ing the customs of the old French nobility. 
Was it because you were introduced to 
Captain Castaigne the other day.^ I be- 
lieve Lieutenant Hume said that he really 
belonged to the aristocracy, but preferred 
not to use his title in Republican France.” 


76 


On the French Firing Line 


Eugenia flushed and was about to answer 
curtly when Mildred Thornton interposed 
good-naturedly: 

‘^For goodness sakes, children, don’t 
quarrel on our first evening, or you may 
bring us bad luck! Remember, we have 
got to prove that girls can live and work 
together. But I don’t want to preach. 
Let’s go to bed so we can get up early in 
the morning and unpack and get used to 
things about the house. I have no doubt 
some one from the field hospital will come 
over to tell us what they wish us to do. 
I am afraid I don’t know much about 
housekeeping or cooking except for the 
sick, but I am certainly going to try and 
learn.” 

So the girls went in and each one lighted 
a candle and retired to her own room. 

When she was nearly asleep, however, 
Barbara was startled by a head being 
thrust inside her door. Then by her 
flickering light she discovered Eugenia’s 
face looking uncommonly handsome with 
two long braids of dark hair framing her 
clear-cut features. 


Other Fields 


77 


‘‘Sorry I was so cross, Barbara,’’ she 
whispered. “You know, child, sometimes 
I feel that I must have been born an old 
maid.” 


CHAPTER VI 


The Chateau 

N ext morning Mildred and Eugenia 
went over the field hospital with 
a French officer who had been sent 
to receive them. 

Barbara and Nona, therefore, undertook 
the unpacking and arranging of their be- 
longings and also the task of preparing 
lunch, which was to be a light one. Indeed, 
all the household arrangements must be of 
the simplest, so that the girls might have 
their strength and enthusiasm to give to 
the work of nursing. 

But because they had gotten up soon 
after daylight, Nona and Barbara found 
that they had two hours of freedom which 
might be spent in investigating the neigh- 
borhood. So putting on ordinary clothes 
instead of their nursing uniforms, they set 
out for a walk. 

‘H suppose,” Barbara suggested, making 

( 78 ) 


The Chateau 


79 


an odd grimace, ‘‘that there is no special 
harm in our walking through the estate 
of the countess and possibly looking at the 
chateau if we chance to be in the vicinity. 
I don’t believe that we can do much stroll- 
ing about here without encroaching on her 
place. From what Frangois told us yester- 
day she owns most of the countryside.” 

Nona laughed. “That is possibly an 
exaggeration. Still, I would like to see 
the old chateau immensely. In spite of 
Eugenia, I agree with you that we may be 
permitted to humbly gaze upon it without 
attempting to speak to any one. I wonder 
in which direction we ought to go to dis- 
cover it.^” 

The girls had gone several yards now and 
Barbara stopped and wheeled about. 

“There is a pine forest over there to the 
left that is so lovely it won’t matter if it 
brings us out at the end of nowhere. Only 
we ought to drop bits of paper behind us 
like Hop o’ My Thumb for fear of getting 
lost.” 

“I have a fairly good bump of locality,” 
the other girl answered. 


80 


On the French Firing Line 


Then in spite of the fact that they were 
two feminine persons, neither of the girls 
spoke again until they had walked at least 
a mile. Having come unexpectedly upon 
a shining pool of water, it was then impos- 
sible not to utter exclamations of delight. 

Nona dropped down on her knees and 
stared into the depth of it. ^‘Have you 
read ‘Peleas and Melisande, ’ Barbara 
she asked. ‘Ht opens in the most exquisite 
fashion with Melisande gazing down into 
the depth of the pool and crying over some- 
thing she has lost. One never knows 
exactly what it is, but I always thought the 
entire story meant a reaching after the 
light. I suppose that is what war is, though 
it is a cruel and horrible way of searching 
for it.” 

Barbara nodded, although she did not 
know exactly what her friend was talking 
about. There was a poetic streak in Nona 
Davis that no other one of the four girls 
possessed. During her lonely childhood 
she seemed to have read an odd assortment 
of books. Of course she had not the real 
information that Eugenia had, but what she 


The Chateau 


81 


knew was more fascinating, at least ac- 
cording to Barbara Meade’s ideas. 

‘‘Well, I hope that war may never cross 
the border line into these forests,” Nona 
added thoughtfully, “although I can im- 
agine any one who knew them could play 
hide and seek with an enemy for a long 
time. There is a little hut over there that 
seems deserted; let’s go and see it.” 

As Barbara had been standing she of 
course had a better view than her com- 
panion, but Nona obediently followed her. 

The little hut was empty. It was merely 
a tumbledown shack of logs and stones. 
However, some one must have inhabited 
it at one time or another, because there 
were signs of a fire and a few old pots and 
pans, weather beaten and rusty, that had 
been left about. Moreover, there was a 
moth-eaten fur rug that may have formed 
a bed. 

Yet it was lonely and uncomfortable 
looking, so the girls did not care to linger. 
Besides, if they were to see the old French 
chateau during the morning they must find 
a place where it was more likely to be. 


82 


On the French Firing Line 


Discovering a path that appeared to have 
been more used than any other, they fol- 
lowed it. In ten minutes after they came 
to the edge of the clearing and there about 
a quarter of a mile beyond was the outline 
of the chateau. 

‘‘I suppose it is intruding to go nearer,” 
Barbara said plaintively, ‘^but I can’t get 
the least satisfaction from this bird’s-eye 
view.” 

‘‘No doubt of it,” Nona answered, “yet 
I propose that we take the risk. These 
are war times and very few servants are 
left about any of the old places, so we may 
escape without being seen. I feel it is our 
duty, as long as Eugenia is not along, to 
see all that we can before our work begins. 
Then we’ll have no chance.” 

The chateau was in a measure a disap- 
pointment, because after all it looked more 
like an old-time fortress than a dwelling 
house, and besides was dreadfully dilapi- 
dated. 

“But once one was accustomed to this 
idea, it really became more interesting,” 
Nona finally argued. 


The Chateau 


83 


A part of the chateau must have been 
erected in the fourteenth or fifteenth cen- 
tury when feudal warfare was still carried 
on in France. The stone tower had loop- 
holes for windows with iron bars across, so 
that the approach of an enemy could be 
discovered and he might be attacked with 
slight danger to the inmates of the castle. 
This tower was in a fairly good state of 
preservation, but the rest of the house, 
where the living apartments were situated, 
was almost a ruin. There were signs of 
poverty everywhere. The servants’ quarters 
were deserted, there were no stables, nothing 
to suggest the prosperity that should ac- 
company so famous a possession as the old 
chateau represented. 

Indeed, the tw’o American girls were so 
engaged in discussing the situation that 
they were not aware of anyone approaching. 
Unexpectedly they found a woman past 
middle age moving slowly toward them. 
She was alone save that she was accom- 
panied by an immense silver-gray dog, 
which to Nona’s gratification she held by 
a leash. For in spite of her bravery in other 


84 


On the French Firing Line 


matters, Nona was ridiculously and un- 
reasonably fearful of dogs. 

‘‘ Gracious ! ” Barbara whispered, half 
amused and half terror-stricken. ^‘That 
must be the mythical countess herself. 
Shades of Eugenia, what shall we say or do?” 

But the older woman gave them little 
opportunity for a decision. 

She was small and slender, dressed in 
black, with a lace shawl over her head 
coming down into a point upon her fore- 
head. Underneath were masses of carefully 
arranged snow-white hair. The Countess’ 
face was almost as white as her hair; there 
was nothing that gave it color save her lips 
and a pair of somber dark eyes. Her expres- 
sion was sad and aloof. 

She must have recognized the two girls 
as Americans and known for what purpose 
they had just come to the neighborhood. 
Nevertheless, she passed by them without 
speaking, save for a slight inclination of her 
head. In spite of her kindness the evening 
before, assuredly she had no desire for 
further acquaintance. 

When she was out of hearing Barbara 


The Chateau 


85 


and Nona gazed at each other like two for- 
ward children. 

Then Barbara took off the small silk cap 
she was so fond of wearing. 

am taking it off to Eugenia, Nona,” 
she explained. ‘‘Thank fortune, I did not 
intrude my western personality upon the 
great lady. I can just imagine how she 
would have treated me if I had undertaken 
to thank her for her kindness and what she 
would have thought about American girls 
in general. Eugenia put it mildly. Well, 
as a greater person than I am once remarked, 
‘it takes all kinds of people to make a world.’ 
And methinks before this war nursing 
experience is over we shall have met a good 
many varieties. But let us get back to the 
little blue and gray farmhouse as soon as 
possible. Goodness knows, I would rather 
live in It than in a tumble-down chateau! 
Besides, I wish to apologize to Eugenia.” 

However, the girls had only started on 
their return journey when some one came 
hobbling along behind them. 

It was Frangois and he carried a basket 
on his arm. 


86 


On the French Firing Line 


Nona inquired a shorter way home and 
the old man explained that as he was on the 
way to their house, he would like to be per- 
mitted to accompany them. There was a 
road that was only half as long as the route 
they had taken. 

Naturally the girls were glad enough for 
the old man’s escort, especially as he was 
full of reminiscences of the neighborhood 
which he loved dearly to impart. 

In his basket was another offering from 
the countess. Old Francois explained that 
if she had passed them without seeming to 
notice their presence, it was not that she 
intended being unkind. She was lonely 
and depressed. All her kinspeople were at 
the front as well as her only son, who was 
the last to bear the family name. Moreover, 
they had been poor before, but now that 
all their farm people had gone off to the war 
and there was no one left to work in the 
fields, where was a single franc to come 
from.^ Besides, were not the Germans so 
near the line that if the worst took place 
they would overrun the countryside^ and 
destroy the little that was left. 


The Chateau 


87 


Finally the girls discovered that the old 
man and his mistress were actually the only 
two persons remaining in the old chateau. 
When Fran9ois was compelled to be away 
the countess had only her great dog for 
protection. 

The picture was a pathetic one and Nona 
and Barbara felt less aggrieved by the 
older woman’s coldness. One could hardly 
wonder that she did not care to meet or 
talk to strangers. 

‘‘But aren’t you afraid to be here on this 
great place alone, Francois.?” Nona asked, 
more to persuade the old man to go on 
talking than because she was interested in 
her question. 

The old peasant shook his head enigmat- 
ically. But he was a garrulous old fellow 
and immensely pleased with Nona’s ability 
to speak French. 

“We will be in no danger,” he said, 
bobbing his head and then shrugging his 
old shoulders until all his bent-over body 
seemed to be moving at once, “even if the 
barbarians should devastate our land. If 
this should happen the American girls 


88 


On the French Firing Line 


must flee to old Frangols for protection. 
They could say what they liked about the 
Red Cross insuring them from danger, he 
knew a better way.” But what the way 
was Frangois would not tell, although both 
girls teased and implored him to confide 
in them all the way back to the “House 
with the Blue Front Door.” 


CHAPTER VII 


Nicolete 

F or the following week the four girls 
were too busy to think of anything 
save their hospital work and their 
household responsibilities. 

But one afternoon about four o’clock one 
of their officer friends suggested that they 
pay a visit to the French line of trenches 
in their immediate neighborhood. Not 
the firing line, but the second line trenches 
where the reserve soldiers slept, ate, smoked 
their cigarettes and even edited a daily 
paper. 

For some little time there had been a lull 
in the fighting, so there could be little 
danger in such a tour of inspection. Yet 
if there had been the Red Cross girls would 
have given it scant thought. They were 
becoming so accustomed to the conditions 
of war that even Barbara Meade confessed 
herself a little less of a coward. Indeed, 

( 89 ) 


90 


On the French Firing Line 


they were beginning to understand why 
many soldiers take their daily existence so 
calmly and cheerfully, until actually they 
are bored, or homesick, or both, unless 
fighting is going on or the prospects of it 
near. 

Trenches, you probably know, are not 
arranged in parallel lines, the one exactly 
behind the other like long pieces of ribbon. 
They often form a series of intricate under- 
ground passages, some of them crossing 
and recrossing each other, so that in one 
battle front in France where there were one 
hundred and forty miles of trenches there 
were only twelve miles directly facing the 
enemy. 

Naturally the Red Cross girls could only 
see a very small section of trench life during 
one afternoon’s visit. 

‘‘But the briefness of the excursion was 
the chief thing to recommend it,” Barbara 
Meade insisted afterwards, although inter- 
ested at the time. 

Following their soldier guide, the girls 
walked through a deep, wide tunnel with a 
wooden paving at the bottom, such as one 
used to see in old-time village streets. 


Nicolete 


91 


Inside the light was dim and gray, 
broken by shafts of sunlight filtering down 
through flimsy roofs of straw and branches 
of trees, placed above the openings to 
conceal the French trenches from the 
German air scouts. 

Eugenia and Nona kept together at first 
with Barbara and Mildred close behind 
them. Every few feet of the way, however, 
one or all four of them would stop for con- 
versation with the French soldiers. 

Among the men there were several who 
had made pathetic efforts to turn their 
mole-like quarters into semblances of homes. 
One young fellow had actually swung a 
faded photograph of his mother upon a 
wooden peg which he had hammered into 
the earth. So ‘‘Ma Mere” had become the 
mascot of his trench. Because of her 
presence, the other soldier declared, not one 
German shell had fallen into their ditch. 

Moreover, many good Catholics had 
iron or wooden crosses suspended above the 
small heap of possessions each soldier was 
allowed to keep in his trench. These were 
his knapsack and rifle, sometimes a few 


92 


On the' French Firing Line 


papers and magazines, perhaps a writing 
pad and pencil and a small roll of first-aid 
appliances presented by the French Red 
Cross Society. 

Of necessity a soldier’s existence inside 
a trench must be a quiet one. Many of 
them are compelled to turn night into day, 
so they sleep while the light shines and stay 
on guard at night when there is always 
greater danger of attack. However, as it 
was late afternoon when the Red Cross 
girls made their tour of inspection, it was 
about the time the soldiers enjoyed their 
recreation. Only the sentries appeared to 
be doing active duty. Many of the other 
men were smoking or joking with one 
another, some of them were even drinking 
afternoon tea after the fashion they had 
acquired from the English Tommies. 

As the four American girls, preceded by 
their guide, approached, walking along 
through the center of the trench as if they 
were on a city street, first the soldiers 
stared at them with surprise and then with 
pleasure. It was an odd sight to see a 
petticoat in such a place! 


Nicolete 


93 


Naturally the soldiers wished to shake 
hands with their guests, to ask questions 
about their wounded comrades, and in 
many cases to tell them how they had con- 
quered the difficulties in their underground 
existence. 

Yet how differently the four girls were 
affected by the experience ! Barbara Meade 
felt extraordinarily depressed. Even if 
the soldiers did make the best of things, she 
could not help thinking that many of them 
were just young boys who ought to have 
been whistling and working in the sunshine, 
or else studying or playing upon college 
grounds. 

Mildred also found it difficult to behave 
as cheerfully as she would have liked. 
However, Nona and Eugenia were really 
too entertained by what they saw and 
heard to reflect upon anything save the 
wonder of the scene about them. 

The American girls were at present 
nursing in that portion of France where 
the trench system has been known to the 
outside world as ^‘The Labyrinth,” so 
intricate and maze-line are its passageways. 


94 


On the French Firing Line 


But it was almost at the end of their 
journey when Barbara Meade made a 
discovery that in some odd fashion made a 
stronger appeal to her than any of the 
wonders they had seen. Their trip had 
of course been made through one of the 
rear trenches at some distance from the 
German line. Now they had come to the 
last ditch they were to be allowed to enter. 
It was less deep than the others and sloped 
gradually to the earth above. Moreover, 
the light now shone more distinctly, so that 
just at first the girls were a little blinded 
after the darkness. It was always perpetual 
twilight in the deeper trenches until night 
fell. 

Barbara stood for a moment with her 
eyelids fluttering and a curiously intense 
expression on her face. Then she reached 
out her hand and touched Mildred Thorn- 
ton, who chanced at the instant to be nearest 
her. 

“I can’t understand,” she whispered. 
Then without finishing her sentence she 
wrinkled up her small nose in an absurd 
fashion, sniffing the heavy underground 


air. 


Nicole te 


95 


“I suppose our trip has gone to my 
head,” she murmured, ‘‘but do you know I 
thought I just smelt a delicious odor of 
flowers. Do you suppose it is because the 
air here is different?” 

Eugenia also sniffed. “Flowers!” she 
repeated indignantly, overhearing the re- 
mark. “Really, Barbara, I don’t see how 
you can manage to be foolish so many 
times.” Nevertheless, she slipped her arm 
inside the younger girl’s, noticing that she 
looked pale and tired. 

At this time the officer who had been 
acting as their escort moved on ahead with 
Nona and Mildred following him. 

A second later and Eugenia also stopped, 
arching her thin nostrils. 

For there standing just in front of Bar- 
bara was an unexpected figure. He was a 
boy of about nineteen. But instead of 
having the dark hair and eyes of most 
young Frenchmen, he was blond, with pale 
gold hair, blue eyes and the faintest down 
of a future moustache. Moreover, he held a 
bunch of old-fashioned flowers in his hand, 
which he was thrusting toward the two 
strange young women. 


96 


On^the French Firing Line 


‘‘There, I did know what I was talk- 
ing about, after all!” Barbara ejacu- 
lated faintly to her companion. However, 
Eugenia had a habit of paying no attention 
to one when she chanced to be in the 
wrong. 

“Thank you,” she remarked graciously 
to the young soldier as she accepted his 
flowers, for Eugenia could be gracious when 
she chose. “But do tell how you managed 
to find a bouquet at such a time and 
place ?” 

She was speaking her best school French, 
but in spite of her peculiar accent the 
soldier somehow managed to understand. 

“Out of my own garden,” he replied, 
with a faint lifting of the blond mustache. 

The young soldier looked like a grown-up 
baby, Barbara thought, with his fair curly 
hair, his pink cheeks and his china-blue 
eyes. 

“You see there are long hours here in 
the trenches when we men have so little 
to do, one suffers the grand ennui^"^ he 
explained to Eugenia. “So my friends 
and I have made a garden. If you have a 


Nicolete 


97 


minute more to spare will you come and 
see?” 

Obediently the two girls followed until 
the soldier led them to the opening in the 
trench that led up to the outside world. 
Already Nona and Mildred and the young 
officer had disappeared. 

But there like a sunken garden about 
four feet below the earth were two beds of 
bright old-fashioned flowers and small 
stunted evergreens. The gardeners had 
left a pathway of earth in the center of the 
trench, just as one might in any ordinary 
garden. 

Barbara rubbed her eyes. She was 
pretending to be overcome with surprise, 
but in reality felt the tears coming. For 
some reason she could not explain it struck 
her as terribly pathetic that the soldiers, 
hiding in these trenches for such tragic 
work, should spend their spare hours mak- 
ing the dark world beautiful. 

Eugenia was bent upon understanding 
the situation. 

‘^Did you actually plant seeds here in 
such a place and under such conditions 


98 


On the French Firing Line 


and make them grow?’’ she demanded. 
‘‘Whatever made you think they would 
blossom?” 

The French soldier smiled. He seemed 
rather to enjoy the questioning, since it 
showed the proper interest and admiration 
for his work. 

“I brought back the first plant from our 
garden when I had been at home on sick 
leave,” he explained proudly. “Then with- 
out thinking or expecting the flower to 
live, I thrust my plant into the earth where 
there was a little sunlight. Then the 
pauvre petite grew and flourished and so I 
wrote home for others. Later my com- 
rades grew interested. They brought water 
for my plants and saved their tobacco 
ashes to put around them. Then they 
too asked that more plants be sent them. 
Some we found by the wayside in our 
walks through the woods. We have been 
lucky because no German shell has dared 
destroy our garden.” 

The young fellow looked so pleased that 
even Eugenia, who was far less senti- 
mental than Barbara, felt touched. It 


Nicolete 


99 


might be ridiculous to spend one’s time 
tending a garden when there was so much 
more important work to be done, but 
then the French are an artistic and a 
sentimental people. One had read of the 
soldiers in the trenches planting gardens in 
their spare hours without really believing 
it until now. 

But Eugenia was impatient to be gone. 
The other three girls expected to return 
home immediately, but she wished first to 
pay a short visit to the field hospital back 
of the trenches to Inquire about one of her 
patients. ' 

However, when once they were safe 
upon the face of the earth again, both 
girls uttered exclamations of surprise. But 
neither of them showed the least desire to 
move away. For there just ahead of them 
was a stretch of level green country with 
about fifty soldiers forming a circle within 
it. They were not lounging or talking, but 
were alert and interested. They were 
watching something or someone who must 
be in the center of the circle. 

Barbara and Eugenia discovered that 


roo On the French Firing Line 


Nona and Mildred had joined the group. 
They were equally absorbed. Indeed, 
when the two girls joined them, Barbara 
had to stand on tiptoe to find out what 
was going on. Neither of her friends paid 
the slightest attention to her. Indeed, it 
was only through the kindness of a soldier 
who moved aside to make room for her and 
Eugenia that they were able to see what 
was taking place. 

There in the middle of the green space 
was such an entrancing figure that Barbara 
fairly gasped with surprise and pleasure. 
Eugenia frowned with a mixture of dis- 
approval and interest. 

A girl of about fifteen or sixteen was 
dancing for the entertainment of the sol- 
diers. She was slender, with straight black 
hair, loose to her shoulders. On her head 
was a scarlet cap and she wore a thin 
blouse and a short skirt the color of her 
cap. As she whirled about in her dance 
now and then she would snatch the cap 
from her head. Then the girls could see 
that she seemed to bend and sway almost 
without eflFort. Her eyes were large and 


Nicolete 


101 


dark and her Ups a bright red, yet in spite 
of the exercise of the dance her cheeks 
remained pale. 

‘‘She is like a poppy dancing in the wind, 
isn't she, Eugenia?” Barbara whispered 
admiringly. 

Eugenia looked severe. “I must say I 
cannot approve of such an exhibition,” she 
commented. 

For once Barbara agreed. “I don’t 
approve either, but the girl is entrancing. 
I wonder who she is and what her name 
can be? The soldiers behave as if she had 
danced for them before.” 

At this moment Barbara heard a voice 
at her elbow and turning discovered the 
young Frenchman who had presented them 
the bunch of flowers. 

His pink cheeks were pinker than ever 
and his eyes bluer. Once again Barbara 
decided that he was a glorified, grown-up 
baby. He held a little spray of mignonette 
in his hand which he tossed toward the 
little dancer. 

“She is Nicolete,” he whispered exci- 
tedly. At least that is what I have chosen 


102 On the French Firing Line 


to call her. No one knows who she is or 
where she comes from, only that she dances 
for us here nearly every afternoon at this 
hour.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


Who Goes There ? 

E ugenia stayed later at the hos- 
pital than she expected. The pa- 
tient she had left a few hours before 
was not so well and wished her to be with 
him. So she sat holding the boy’s hand 
and talking to him gently until he had 
fallen asleep. It was curious that Eugenia, 
who was always so stern with well persons, 
was wonderfully sympathetic with her pa- 
tients. She was firm, of course, but only 
when she felt it necessary for their good. 
For Eugenia was not a “butterfly” nurse, 
the name that has been applied to the 
fashionable society women who have been 
caring for the wounded as much for their 
own entertainment as the soldiers’ good. 

So somehow, in spite of her American 
French, the boy she had been tending pre- 
ferred her to remain by him rather than his 
own countrywoman. 

( 103 ) 


104 


On the French Firing Line 


She was very tired when she slipped 
away. She had come to the field hospital 
at eight o’clock in the morning, worked 
until four, then spent two hours in the 
trenches and afterwards another two hours 
at nursing again. For it was after eight 
o’clock when she started for home. 

Naturally no one appreciated that Eu- 
genia was returning alone. Of course, in 
war times the Red Cross nurses had grown 
accustomed to caring for themselves as 
well as other persons. Nevertheless, this 
evening the circumstances were unusual. 
Eugenia was a stranger in a strange land. 
She had only recently come to this portion 
of France, was unfamiliar with the country, 
which was filled with regiments of soldiers. 
Moreover, the night was uncomfortably 
dark. Had the doctors or attendants at 
the field hospital known of her departure, 
one of them would have insisted upon 
accompanying her. 

However, no one is sensible when tired. 
So for some reason, although a little ner- 
vous at the prospect ahead of her, Eugenia 
got away without being seen. She was 


Who Goes There? 


105 


determined to give no trouble. Of course, 
if she had been Barbara, or Nona, or Mil- 
dred she would have considered it fool- 
hardy, almost wicked, to have attempted 
walking a mile in the darkness alone. But 
with Eugenia Peabody the case was differ- 
ent. No one had ever thought of looking 
after her in her life, and surely no one would 
begin now. 

The first part of her trip home was along 
a path through the open fields. As Eugenia 
hurried on toward their little adopted home 
she began wondering if the girls had missed 
her at supper time. This was the pleasant- 
est hour in all their day. Then possibly 
because she was weary she decided that 
they had probably been glad to be relieved 
of her presence. For no one of the Ameri- 
can Red Cross 'girls really cared much for 
her. Of this Eugenia was convinced. 
Nona and Mildred both tried to be kind 
and Barbara behaved as well as she could, 
except on occasions when she felt especially 
antagonistic. 

Once or twice Eugenia stumbled, not 
because there were difficulties in her way 


106 


On the French Firing Line 


but because she was thinking so deeply. 
What could be the trouble with her nature.^ 
As she was in a mood of severe truthful- 
ness with herself she realized that no one 
had ever loved her a great deal in her entire 
life. 

Left an orphan when she was a few years 
old, she could not recall her mother or 
father. Of course, her Aunt Rebecca, who 
had brought her up, had been reasonably 
fond of her. But Eugenia was convinced 
that she had never been an attractive child. 

Yet why, tonight of all nights, should she 
fall to thinking of herself.^ And why in this 
darkness and in a foreign land should she 
have such a clear vision of the little girl in 
the old New England town.^ 

One thing she recalled most distinctly: 
she must have always looked old. Stran- 
gers used to discuss her and people used 
always to expect more from her than from 
the other children of the same age. More- 
over, she had always been painfully shy 
and this shyness had colored her whole life. 

As a child she simply had to pretend to 
feel superior and to be serious-minded, 


Who Goes There? 


107 


because she did not know how to play and 
laugh like the others did. Since she had 
been grown up, and for the same reason, 
she had gone on behaving in the same way. 

Often here in Europe with the other Red 
Cross girls she had wished to be as gay and 
nonsensical as they were. Yet she never 
knew how to relax into a frivolous mood. 

Once the tears actually started into 
Eugenia’s dark eyes. She realized that 
now and then she had even been jealous 
of her three companions. Nona and Bar- 
bara were so pretty and charming and 
Mildred had qualities finer than these two 
possessions. Besides, the three girls made 
her feel so dreadfully old. This is never 
an agreeable sensation after twenty, how- 
ever much the teens may aspire to appear 
elderly. Then Eugenia managed to smile 
at herself, although it was a kind of twisted 
smile. It occurred to her to wonder if she 
had failed to like Barbara Meade because 
it was Barbara who had first suggested 
that she must be a great deal older than the 
rest of them. 

Deliberately Eugenia now began to walk 


108 On the French Firing Line 


slowly. She did not wish to arrive at home 
in her present mood. Having passed 
through the fields, she was now on her way 
through the lane that led through an open 
woods directly to the ‘‘House with the 
Blue Front Door.” Dozens of times Eu- 
genia had made this trip in the daytime, 
but a country road has a very different 
appearance at night. Moreover, the trees 
made the lane seem far darker than the 
path through the open fields. 

It was stupid not to have brought her 
electric flashlight! However, nothing had 
so far disturbed Eugenia’s progress. Not 
one wayfarer or soldier out upon leave had 
she encountered, although the neighbor- 
hood was thickly populated with men and 
women living on the outskirts of the en- 
trenchments. 

Eugenia hoped that if she should meet 
a passerby he might be a soldier. There 
were but few of them who would not re- 
spect her uniform. However, she was 
beginning to forget her previous nervous- 
ness, for this lane was not a frequently 
traveled one. It merely led past their 


Who Goes There? 


109 


little house into the heavier woods beyond, 
where Barbara and Nona had told of their 
discovery of the deserted hut and the pool 
of Melisande. 

There was no moon and Eugenia was 
making little noise. She had a fashion of 
being able to get about almost sound- 
lessly, a characteristic she had cultivated in 
the sick room until she could move almost 
as quietly as an Indian. 

Then suddenly she began to feel more 
sensible and cheerful. Home was no longer 
far away and even if no one loved her very 
devotedly, at least the girls would have 
saved supper for her. Food would go a 
long way toward dispelling her blues. 

Unconsciously Eugenia was moving more 
rapidly. She had almost broken Into a run 
before she became aware of footsteps be- 
hind her. Then, although pausing for 
about half a second to find out, she could 
not decide whether one or half a dozen 
persons were following her. 

It was most unreasonable of Eugenia. 
She had no cause for thinking that the 
presence of other persons traveling the same 


110 On the French Firing Line 


lane meant they were in pursuit of her. 
But have you ever given way to an attack 
of melancholy? Then you know that 
invariably it leaves your nerves unstrung 
and ready for a collapse. 

Certainly Eugenia did not consider her- 
self beautiful or attractive, yet even in the 
midst of her self-depreciation she had not 
thought to bewail her own lack of judgment. 
Nevertheless, almost at once after hearing 
the steps she started to run. This was, of 
course, the most ridiculous thing she could 
have done. A moment’s thought and she 
must have appreciated the fact. These 
were war times and the suggestion that one 
wished to escape a pursuer was in itself a 
sign of guilt. 

Immediately Eugenia increased her speed, 
at the same instant the persons or things 
behind her gave chase. The next mo- 
ment a voice rang out. Something it 
said in French which held a tone of author- 
ity. However, Eugenia paid it not the 
slightest attention. Only a quarter of a 
mile beyond lay ‘‘The House with the 
Blue Front Door,” so her one idea now was 
to reach it. 


Who Goes There? 


Ill 


“Barbara! Barbara!” Eugenia called 
faintly, though just why she should have 
endeavored to summon the smallest and 
apparently the most timid of the Red Cross 
girls, far be it from Eugenia to understand 
either then or afterwards. Fright some- 
times makes one do extraordinary things. 

But imagine the stately Eugenia running 
through the night with her nurse’s coat 
forming a kind of sail behind her, her bon- 
net in her hand and her heavy hair unbound 
and falling down her neck, crying out to 
Barbara for protection. 

But Barbara herself could not have run 
faster, for now Eugenia had real cause for 
fear. A great something was pounding 
nearer and nearer her. The sound it made 
was scarcely human. Then again a voice 
shouted a few words sharply in French. 
In her terror Eugenia could not compre- 
hend their meaning. Nevertheless, she 
must have hesitated for an instant, for 
immediately after something struck her on 
either shoulder. Falling, she was thus 
unable to see what had happened, but re- 
mained mute with the horror. The tre- 


112 On the French Firing Line 


mendous thing still hovered over her so 
that she dared not speak or move. 

Naturally an eternity seemed to have 
passed over Eugenia. However, it was only 
another moment before a light flashed in her 
face. 

‘‘Sacre coeur!’’ she heard a voice ex- 
claim. ^‘Une femme!’’ 

Then the great creature that had pinned 
her down moved away and Eugenia felt a 
hand upon her arm. 

beg a thousand pardons,” a voice said 
in English. ‘^You will never be able to 
forgive me. But why did you not halt 
when I called out to you? I am a French 
officer and feared you were a runaway 
soldier or a thief. They come now and 
then to our camp. But that I should allow 
you to be struck down by my dog! Mon- 
sieur le Due, I am most bitterly ashamed 
of you. You at least should have known 
better.” 

This last remark was addressed to the 
dog, in order to gain time and to help 
cover the young French officer’s chagrin 
and confusion. With his light he had of 


Who Goes There? 


113 


course discovered that Eugenia was wear- 
ing a nurse’s uniform, which made his act 
the more unpardonable. Nevertheless, as 
he apologized he was struggling to help 
her to arise. 

By this time Eugenia was more or less 
herself again and moreover was exceed- 
ingly angry. She was frightened and hurt 
by her experience, but more, her dignity 
was upset as it had never been before. 

Eugenia disdained the French officer’s 
assistance. Quickly as possible she got up 
on her feet, though still unable to speak 
because of a queer contraction in her throat 
and odd shaking of her knees. One glance 
she deigned to give at the great beast that 
had so frightened her. She could only see 
the outline of an immense dog, that ap- 
peared as apologetic as the man since his 
master’s rebuke. But Eugenia would not 
look at the young officer. However, it 
would have done little good, for she could 
not have seen him with any distinctness 
in the darkness. 

Yet Eugenia would have been both 
amazed and annoyed if she had dreamed of 


8 


114 On the French Firing Line 


how clearly the offender could see her. He 
had managed to turn his flashlight upon 
her in such a way that he had a perfect 
vision of her without being seen. 

Curiously Eugenia was looking unusually 
handsome. Her cheeks were brilliantly 
flushed and her dark eyes glowing with a 
mixture of emotions. Moreover, she had 
beautiful hair when it was unbound, al- 
though few people realized it after she had 
twisted it into a tight rope to adorn her 
head. 

‘H presume your mistake was uninten- 
tional,” she remarked in an icy voice, ‘‘but 
please in future be more careful of the 
victims of your mistakes.” 

Surely Eugenia had forgotten that she 
was speaking to an officer in the French 
army, for her tone was that of a severe elder 
addressing an erring child. She did not 
at present know the officer’s rank, age nor 
condition of life. But one is by no means 
sure that any possible consideration would 
have influenced Eugenia in her present 
mood. 

“No, I prefer to find my way home 


Who Goes There? 


115 


alone,” she continued in answer to her com- 
panion’s humble request to accompany 
her. 

So Eugenia walked on with her head 
very high for the rest of the journey, pre- 
tending not to know that the officer and his 
dog were keeping at a respectful distance 
in order to afford her a safe escort. 

This was scarcely necessary ‘‘after the 
pot was in the fire,” Eugenia thought, 
recalling an old New England expression. 
She was no longer frightened now that she 
could see the light in their own little French 
farmhouse. 

Yet to the surprise and consternation of 
the three American Red Cross girls, Eu- 
genia burst into tears the moment Barbara 
had opened the blue front door. 


CHAPTER IX 


A Conversation 

E ugenia sat in an old oak chair in 
the farmhouse dining room while 
Barbara swept and dusted. 

It was the morning after her experience 
in the woods and actually she had con- 
fessed to a headache and had decided not to 
go to the field hospital for her daily nursing. 

At present the four American girls were 
on day duty and remained at the hospital 
from nine in the morning until four in the 
afternoon, their places being taken by other 
nurses at that hour. But each girl had one 
day of rest and by chance this happened 
to be Barbara’s. 

Eugenia had been asleep when Nona and 
Mildred went away to work and only in 
the last half hour had crept downstairs. 
All her life every now and then she had 
been subject to wretched headaches which 
left her speechless and exhausted. But 
( 116 ) 


A Conversation 


117 


so far since coming abroad her three girl 
companions had not been aware of them. 

Now every now and then while Barbara 
worked she glanced toward Eugenia. It 
was difficult to recognize the severe and 
energetic Miss Peabody in this white-faced, 
quiet girl. For Eugenia had never since 
the beginning of their acquaintance looked 
so young. For one thing, she was wearing 
a beautiful violet cashmere kimono Mildred 
had presented her during their stay in 
Paris. She had never worn it until now. 
At least the gift had not come directly 
from Mildred or Eugenia would never have 
accepted it. But Mrs. Thornton had writ- 
ten from New York asking that Mildred’s 
new friends receive some little gifts from 
her, and Mildred had chosen four kimonos. 
They were too pretty for nursing use, so 
the other girls had been enjoying theirs in 
the evenings alone at home. 

Eugenia had never consented to relax 
even to that extent when work was over 
and there was no possibility of company. 
Now, however, her costume was not of her 
own choosing, for after Barbara had taken 


118 On the French Firing Line 


a cup of coffee to her room and persuaded 
her into drinking it, she had dressed her 
in the new kimono without asking per- 
mission. Also she had brushed and plaited 
Eugenia’s heavy hair into two long braids. 

‘‘Funny for a New England old maid to 
be able to look like an Italian Madonna 
simply because her hair is down and her 
head aches,” Barbara thought to herself 
after one of her quick glances at Eugenia. 

She made rather a fetching picture her- 
self, but Barbara was at present entirely 
unconscious. Simply because it happened 
to be the most useful costume she owned 
for the purpose, she was clad in a French 
peasant’s smock of dark-blue linen, and 
wore a little white cap at a rakish angle 
on top of her brown curls. Her hair was 
now sufficiently long to twist into a small 
knot at the nape of her neck, where delicate 
tendrils were apt to creep forth like the 
new growth on a vine. 

Finally Eugenia, opening her eyes and 
catching sight of Barbara, at this moment 
on tip toes in her effort to dust the tall 
mantel-shelf, said unexpectedly: 


A Conversation 


119 


‘‘You are very pretty, Barbara dear, and 
just the kind of a little woman that men are 
apt to care for. I wonder if you ever think 
of marrying, or do you mean to go on nurs- 
ing all your life.^ Now and then I have 
thought that Dick ” 

But her sentence was interrupted by 
Barbara’s dropping the candlestick which 
she was dusting and then turning to stare 
at her companion. 

“Why, Eugenia, I thought you were 
asleep,” she began reproachfully. Then 
showing the dimple which she so resented, 
she added slyly, “But what on earth made 
you speak on such a subject.^ I never 
dreamed that you ever had a thought of 
such a thing in your life.” 

Barbara bit her lips. No wonder Eugenia 
considered her a goose, for certainly she 
seemed possessed of the fatal gift of saying 
the wrong thing. 

Eugenia was no longer pale. Indeed, a 
wave of hot color had turned her entire 
face crimson. 

“Am I so unattractive as all that?” she 
asked slowly, forgetting her headache for 


120 On the French Firing Line 


the instant and feeling a return of the mood 
that had troubled her the evening before, 
until the excitement of her adventure had 
driven it from her mind. 

^‘Do you know, Barbara, I was trying to 
decide just last night what was the matter 
with me. Now I know you don’t like me, 
but I think you are fair. Tell me why you 
suppose I have never even thought of love 
and marriage and the kind of happiness 
other girls expect. I’m not so very old, 
after all! But you are right in one idea, 
I never, never have dreamed of it for 
myself. For one thing, no one has ever 
been in love with me even the least little 
bit in all my life!” 

In spite of the tactlessness of Barbara’s 
speech actually Eugenia was speaking with- 
out the least temper, when ordinarily she 
was given to showing anger with her com- 
panion under the slightest provocation. 

In consequence Barbara felt entirely dis- 
gusted with herself, and what was worse — - 
ridiculously tongue-tied. 

^‘Oh, I did not mean anything like that,” 
she stammered. ‘‘That is — ^at least — ^why, 


A Conversation 


121 


of course you are as nice as anyone when 
you let yourself be, Eugenia. But you do 
seem cold, as if you considered other people 
not exactly worth your attention. And — 
and ” 

Not feeling that she was making out a 
very good case for herself, Barbara put her 
duster down and came and sat on a wooden 
stool near the older girl. 

am an idiot, Eugenia,” she insisted 
scornfully. ‘‘No wonder Dick Thornton 
always declares I have never grown up. 
Besides, I don’t believe you have never 
had any one in love with you, not even a 
young girl-and-boy affair. No girl ever 
lives to be as old as you are without ” 

Again Barbara stopped short, biting her 
lips. 

But Eugenia only shook her head and 
laughed. “I am the exception that proves 
the rule. Besides, my dear, you came from 
the west and not New England, and you 
weren’t, as people have so often said of 
me, ‘born an old maid.’ But never mind, 
I won’t ask any more embarrassing ques- 
tions.” 


122 On the French Firing Line 


Eugenia tried to speak light!}', half 
amused and half hurt hy the expression of 
chagrin on Barbara Meade’s face. 

“By the way,” she added, in an effort 
to change the subject, “how is Dick 
Thornton? I have been meaning to ask 
you what you have heard from him.” 

This time the younger girl flushed, but 
so slightly that Eugenia did not appear 
to notice it. 

“I have heard nothing at all,” she re- 
turned honestly. “But I don’t suppose 
Dick is better, as Mildred and Nona have 
both had letters and say there was nothing 
important in them.” 

Suddenly Barbara took Eugenia^s hand. 

“You have more experience than the 
rest of us,” she began with unusual humility. 
“I wonder if you think Dick has a chance 
of ever using his arm again?” 

The other girl hesitated. Certainly she 
had no right to believe that Barbara felt 
more than the natural interest in Dick 
that they all had for Mildred’s brother and 
their own friend. And, as Barbara had 
just suggested, Eugenia was not supposed 


A Conversation 


123 


even to think on romantic subjects. Never- 
theless, her voice was unusually gentle as 
she replied: 

don’t really know one thing in the 
world about it, Barbara, but Dick is young 
and has lots of determination and most 
certainly I have not given up hope.” 

Eugenia had another twinge of pain in 
her temples at this second and so closed 
her eyes. Although hearing a knock at 
their back door, she did not open them 
even when Barbara left the room. 

A moment later, hearing a strange sound, 
she was surprised by a sudden sense of 
terror, almost of suffocation. Yet surely 
she must be in a kind of nightmare brought 
on by her illness, since the sound suggested 
the footsteps which had pursued her the 
night before and brought on the same 
unreasoning fear. 

Clutching the sides of her chair, Eugenia 
stared ahead of her. 

There in the doorway, leading from the 
kitchen into the principal room of the farm- 
house, stood an immense dog. It was odd 
the manner in which he surveyed Eugenia. 


124 On the French Firing Line 


There was suspicion, distrust and withal 
an air of apology in his manner. 

The dog was a magnificent creature, a 
great Dane, silver-gray in color with a 
heavy silver collar about its throat, en- 
graved with what appeared to be a coat of 
arms. 

Ordinarily Eugenia had a strong affection 
for animals, so it was absurd of her to be 
so nervous because of her experience the 
evening before. Nevertheless, she felt 
again that she could neither speak nor 
move. 

Yet at this moment Barbara danced in, 
pushing aside the big dog as fearlessly and 
unceremoniously as if he had been a 
Persian kitten. She held a number of 
letters in her hands and a big bunch of 
autumn leaves. Behind her, with the 
eternal basket on his arm, hobbled old 
Francois, the French servant from the 
home of the owner of their farmhouse. 

He looked like a little old brown gnome 
with his crooked legs, his stooping shoulders 
and brown peaked cap almost the color of 
his skin. 

Francois is better than a fairy god- 


A Conversation 


125 


mother — he Is a fairy godfather!” Barbara 
exclaimed delightedly. ‘‘He has brought 
us letters and good news of all kinds this 
morning. You are sure to feel better when 
you hear, Eugenia. But how did you 
happen to bring Duke over with you, 
Francois? I thought he was supposed to 
stay at home and take care of his mistress 
when you were compelled to leave her 
alone.” 

Eugenia listened with only mild atten- 
tion. Evidently this dog belonged to the 
countess upon whose estate they were 
living. He could scarcely be the creature 
that had behaved so unceremoniously with 
her the night before. 

But Francois’ little black eyes were 
twinkling. “Monsieur le Due is able to 
be with me because Madame is not alone 
today,” he explained proudly. 

Eugenia frowned. “What a pompous, 
ridiculous name to betow upon a dog, no 
matter how splendid he happened to be! 
But wasn’t there something familiar In his 
title Surely it was the same name that 
the young French officer had used to his 
dog the night before!” 


CHAPTER X 


Chateau d’AvtHie 

U'\ MY dear Eugenia, you might as 
\ / 1 well confess that you are des- 
^ perately interested. If you 
say anything else we won’t believe you,” 
Barbara declared positively. 

Three days afterward, between four and 
five in the afternoon, the four American 
Red Cross girls were leaving the little 
French farmhouse together, and evidently 
with some definite intention. Nevertheless, 
the journey could have nothing to do with 
their nursing, since the faces and the 
costumes of three of the girls suggested a 
gala occasion. Eugenia, however, having 
entirely recovered her health and poise, 
had returned to her former manner and 
character. Yet she too was wearing her 
best dress, recently purchased in Paris, 
and was looking sternly handsome. 

‘‘Then I might as well not answer you at 
( 126 ) 


Chateau d’Amelie 


127 


all, Barbara, since you have made up your 
mind already what I should reply,” she 
answered curtly. Without intending to be 
ungracious she stalked off in front of the 
little procession. 

The other two girls laughed, but Barbara, 
making a little grimace, ran on until she 
was able to catch up with Eugenia. She 
was beginning to think now and then that 
the older girl’s manner was more severe 
than her emotions. Now she gave her arm 
a little shake. 

Don’t be so superior. Miss Peabody from 
Boston! You must make your confession 
along with the rest of us. So tell me the 
honest truth — Tope I may-die-if-I-don’t’ 
kind — aren’t you terribly pleased that the 
Countess, whose guests we have been for 
some time, has condescended to be willing 
to meet us and has asked us to have coffee 
with her this afternoon at her chateau?” 

Still Eugenia demurred. ^^Oh, I presume 
it will be a novel experience. Nevertheless, 
I don’t think we show proper pride in 
accepting an invitation before the Countess 
has called upon us. It isn’t the way we do 


128 On the French Firing Line 


such things at home. If it comes to a 
question of family, of course I am an 

American, but the Peabodys of Boston ” 

Barbara’s laughter rang out deliciously. 
She was in the gayest possible humor and 
suggested a little woodland creature in her 
brown cloth suit and hat with a single 
scarlet wing. What had become of the 
serious-minded young American w’^oman 
devoting her life to the care of the wounded ? 

‘‘But it isn’t a question of family, 
Eugenia, or how should I dare live and 
breathe in the same world with you, any 
more than with a French countess?” she 
protested. “But please remember that we 
have accepted a great deal more from this 
same Countess than a simple invitation to 
spend an hour with her. We are living in 
/ler house, we have been eating a goodly 
portion of her food. Oh, I know this is 
because we are in France to nurse the 
soldiers she adores ! Still, I can’t see that 
this cancels our obligations. Besides, she 

is a much older woman and ” 

Eugenia put her one disengaged hand up 
to her ear. 


Chateau d’Amelie 


129 


‘‘I surrender, Barbara, in all meekness! 
But really, it is not necessary to produce 
so many arguments for doing a thing you are 
simply crazy to do. You merely wish to 
gratify your curiosity. You know, I don’t 
believe that we should be engaging in 
frivolous pursuits like paying visits upon 
strangers, when we are here in Europe for 
such serious purposes. Still, I don’t suppose 
that an occasional break really interferes 
with our work.” 

“Certainly not,” Barbara finished with 
emphasis. Then she skipped along beside 
her taller companion like a small girl 
endeavoring to keep up with a large one. 
“Besides, Eugenia, think of how wonderful 
the news is! The Germans are actually 
retiring of their own accord ! There hasn’t 
been any fighting in our neighborhood for 
over a week now. No wonder the Countess 
Amelie feels like having guests at last. 
Francois says that she has not been so 
cheerful since the war began. I don’t know 
how you feel, Eugenia, but Mildred and 
Nona and I think it a wonderful experience 
to see the inside of an old French home 


130 On the French Firing Line 


which was in existence long before the 
French Revolutionary days. It seems that 
this Countess has never even gone to Paris, 
nor visited anyone except her old family 
friends who are also members of the nobil- 
ity. She won’t even acknowledge that 
France is today a great Republic. She 
still tries to live like the grande dames of 
"the days before the Revolution.” 

Eugenia fairly sniffed. Also she held 
her shoulders straighter and her head 
higher. 

‘‘Then she must be a very absurd old 
woman and I am more than ever sure that 
I shall not like her. The idea of not realiz- 
ing that a republic is the only just form of 
government in the world ! I wouldn’t 
be anything except an American ” 

Once more Barbara smiled, patting the 
older girl’s arm soothingly. 

“Of course you wouldn’t, my dear, and 
neither would any of the rest of us, except 
perhaps Nona. She is really an old-time 
aristocrat, although she would rather perish 
than think so. But just the same I don’t 
see why one should not be interested in 


Chateau d’Amelie 


131 


contrasts in this life ! What could be 
greater than the gulf between this old 
French aristocrat and us?’^ 

What indeed ? ” answered Eugenia, more 
wisely than she then knew. 

For at this moment the interest which the 
four girls had been feeling in their new 
hostess temporarily died away. 

According to Nona’s and Barbara’s sug- 
gestion, and in spite of the distance, they 
were approaching the chateau through the 
woods, which the two girls had visited the 
day after their arrival in this portion of 
southern France. 

November had come, but the autumn 
was so far deliciously warm. Difficult it 
was to imagine a world at war on this after- 
noon and in this particular forest! For, 
by some freak of fortune, this woodland had 
so far escaped the ravages of the German 
shells. Over it and around it they had 
ploughed their devastating way. But until 
now the birds prepared their winter nests 
here undisturbed in the tall trees, and the 
pool of Melisande remained unbroken save 
by its own ripples. 


132 On the French Firing Line 


Again the girls walked more quietly along 
the path under the trees than in the open 
country. They were thinking perhaps of 
different things, while their eyes were 
absorbed in the loveliness about them. 
For after months of nursing, sometimes 
amid horrors and suffering one could not 
afterwards discuss, it was healing to both 
soul and body to inhale the sweetness of the 
earth and air. 

Southern France was unlike the land 
lying to the north and close to the Belgian 
frontier, where the Red Cross girls had for 
some months past been nursing the British 
soldiers. That was an orchard and a vine- 
yard country, this a land^of forest and of 
golden grain fields. Many of the trees 
were pine and cedar, yet there were occa- 
sional maples and elms, and here and there 
a chestnut. 

A small branch of scarlet and yellow 
leaves dropped near Eugenia’s feet. It was 
a far call to her New England home, yet 
somehow the color and the atmosphere of 
the woods awakened home memories. Un- 
consciously Eugenia stopped and thrust the 


Chateau d’Amelie 


133 


bunch of leaves inside her belt. Against 
the blue of her costume they shone like 
flame, making her eyes and hair show darker 
by contrast and bringing a brighter tone 
to her clear but pale skin. 

Noticing the attractive effect of the 
careless decoration, the three other girls 
were far too wise to mention the fact to 
Eugenia, or assuredly the leaves would again 
have been trampled under foot. 

However, they had other interests more 
engrossing to absorb them. 

Barbara and Nona led a short detour for 
a sight of the old hut that had interested 
them on their previous walk. But Mildred 
and Eugenia were both a little scornful of 
the story that this was a hermit’s hut, 
uninhabited for a number of years. This 
afternoon it was so self-evident that some 
one was now living in it that Eugenia 
hurried the others away. No one could 
be seen at the moment, but there was a pile 
of fresh ashes in front of the house, a stack 
of freshly gathered wood and chips by 
the tumbled-down door, and a scarlet cap 
caught in the top of a tall bush. 


134 On the French Firing Line 


Moreover, because it was growing late 
and their invitation was for five o’clock, 
Eugenia could not be persuaded to linger 
by the tiny lake which Nona had christened 
by the poetic title of the ^‘Pool of Meli- 
sande.” The pool one might visit on 
another afternoon, but perhaps there might 
never come a like opportunity from the 
Countess. 

Indeed, as the four girls finally ap- 
proached the ancient stone house never 
would they have confessed to one another 
how nervous they were feeling over the 
next hour. Nona Davis was perhaps least 
self-conscious. Life in the southern part 
of the United States among a few conserva- 
tive old families is not unlike that of the 
almost forgotten nobility of old France. 

The path to the Chateau d’Amelie, 
whose title came down from the first 
countess of the name, was as overgrown 
with weeds as any deserted farmhouse. 
Yet who would look down at their feet 
when trees more than a hundred years old 
stood guard along the avenue leading to 
the ancient portico? And in crossing a 


Chateau d’Amelie 


135 


rickety bridge could one think of the loose 
planks, knowing that the muddy water that 
flowed under it was once the moat that 
surrounded the feudal palace? 

Nevertheless, Barbara had to stifle a 
laugh when at length Francois opened the 
iron-bound wooden door admitting them 
to the chateau. For instead of his peasant’s 
blouse and peaked cap, this afternoon 
Francois wore a livery which must have 
been handed down to him by a majordomo 
at least twice his size. His small, bent-over 
form was almost lost in the large trousers, 
while the tails of the long coat with its 
tarnished gold lace hung down past his 
knees. 

Moreover, Francois’ manner was equally 
changed. Gone was the friendly light in 
his little dark eyes, the protecting, almost 
patronizing manner which he had grown 
accustomed to using in his devoted service 
to the American Red Cross girls. This 
old Frenchman had his nation’s gift of 
feeling the part he was called upon by fate 
to play. Today old Francois felt himself 
a servant of the days of the great Louis 


136 On the French Firing Line 


XIV. Apparently he had never seen his 
lady’s guests before. 

Hobbling along, Francois conducted the 
visitors toward the drawing room through 
a cold, gray stone hall. There was no 
furniture to be seen except two tall, carved 
chairs and an enormous shield, hanging 
suspended from the wall. 

Inside the drawing room, however, there 
was a kind of shabby splendor, very inter- 
esting to the four American girls, no one of 
whom had seen anything like it. 

On the floor was a great rug of tapestry 
showing nymphs and dolphins carrying 
wreaths of fruit and flowers woven into the 
design. The blue and rose and brown of the 
colors had so faded that they were lovelier 
than any artist’s palette could have painted 
them. 

The four girls sat down in chairs covered 
with tapestry of the same kind, which they 
guessed must be almost priceless in value. 
But there were only a few other articles of 
furniture in the room — a beautiful old 
cabinet, a mahogany table inlaid with brass, 
a Louis XIV sofa, while on the walls were 


Chateau d’Amelie 


137 


not more than half a dozen pictures by 
French masters. Nevertheless, the room 
was complete in beauty and elegance. So 
the American girls did not dream that once 
it had been crowded with rare treasures, 
sold one by one to meet the family neces- 
sities. 

However, there were only a few minutes 
in which the guests could make a study of 
their surroundings. Very soon their hostess 
entered with old Francois bowing before 
her as if she had been an empress. She was 
accompanied by a young man in the uniform 
of a French officer. 

The Countess Amelie wore a dress of 
black silk and on her head a cap of lace with 
the Marie Antoinette point in front. Her 
hair was exquisitely white and her eyes 
dark. In spite of the natural coldness and 
hauteur of her expression she was evidently 
trying to appear friendly. 

Her four guests bowed gravely as she 
shook hands with them, welcoming them to 
her home. However, it must be confessed 
that Eugenia’s bow was even more stiff 
than her hostess’s. 


138 On the French Firing Line 


Also Eugenia frowned, while the other 
three girls smiled. For the young officer, 
whom the Countess Amelie afterwards 
introduced as her son, was Captain Henri 
Castaigne, whom they had met through 
Lieutenant Hume in Paris, and upon whom 
they had seen bestowed the Cross of the 
Legion of Honor. 


CHAPTER XI 


The Prejudice Deepens 


T 


iHEN you knew we were here?” 
Nona questioned half shyly. 


Nona and Barbara were seated 
on a wide window seat with Captain Cas- 
taigne beside them. A little further on 
Eugenia, in a carved, high-back chair, was 
watching the group but taking little part in 
the conversation. Mildred and the Count- 
ess Amelie were on the opposite side of the 
great room, still having their coffee and 
chatting amiably, though in not an ani- 
mated fashion. For the Countess would 
have scorned to speak any language but 
her beloved French, and while Mildred’s 
French was good it was not very rapid. 
Nevertheless, her manners were undeni- 
ably sweet and unaffected and the Countess 
plainly approved of her more than any one 
of the other girls. 

Captain Castaigne smiled at Nona. 


( 139 ) 


140 On the French Firing Line 


‘‘Well, I had my suspicions,” he an- 
swered, with the faintest gleam of amuse- 
ment in his dark eyes. “Moreover, I 
received a letter from Lieutenant Hume 
telling me that four American Red Cross 
girls had disappeared from Paris and were 
nursing somewhere in southern France.” 
The young officer bowed his head with a 
pretense of penitence. “Also I must con- 
fess that I have asked a few questions of 
old Francois. You see, I have only re- 
cently been transferred to a regiment near 
my own home, else I should have prayed 
for the privilege of calling upon you. But 
not having seen any one of you until this 
afternoon, I could not be sure my surmise 
was correct.” 

In her throne-like chair Eugenia’s shoul- 
ders assumed a straighter pose, while her 
face turned unexpectedly scarlet. 

“Are you entirely convinced you have 
seen no one of us since our meeting in 
Paris?” she inquired so suddenly and in 
such a peculiar tone, even for Eugenia, that 
Nona and Barbara turned to glance toward 
her in surprise. 


The Prejudice Deepens 


141 


Not having spoken in the past ten min- 
utes, her eyes were now fixed upon the 
young French officer with an expression 
which Barbara Meade at least recognized. 
It plainly expressed disapproval. 

Nevertheless, there was no reason why 
Captain Castaigne should instantly be- 
come embarrassed. Up to this time he 
had been a delightful host, gracious and 
gay. Certainly his manners were not like 
those of an American or an Englishman, 
but Nona and Barbara instinctively under- 
stood that his fashion of paying pretty 
compliments and his somewhat devoted air 
as he talked to one, were simply character- 
istics of a foreigner. 

Now, however, he blushed and stam- 
mered like a school-boy. With Eugenia’s 
gaze upon him he crimsoned and cast down 
his eyes. 

“If I have seen one of you before I am 
sure I have not recognized you,” he re- 
turned with unnecessary humility. “I 
have been at work with my soldiers most of 
the time since receiving my new command. 
I only return to the chateau occasionally 
to see my mother.” 


142 On the French Firing Line 


Eugenia’s nostrils arched slightly in a 
way she had when angry. 

‘‘Do you usually pay these visits in the 
daytime or in the evening?” she questioned, 
with what seemed to the other two girls 
rather too much curiosity. For these were 
war times when one was not supposed to 
ask questions that were not absolutely 
necessary. 

Still the young officer showed no resent- 
ment. 

“I have no regular hour, Mademoiselle. 
Whenever I can be spared I desire to be 
with my mother. There are only the two 
of us and we have been much separated. 
First there were the years devoted to my 
training as a soldier and since has come the 
cruel fortune of war.” 

From the opposite side of the room the 
Countess Amelie must at this moment 
have guessed that her son was speaking of 
her. She looked toward him with such a 
combination of pride and devotion that it 
was almost touching. Her whole face 
softened. 

But Eugenia did not observe her. 


The Prejudice Deepens 


143 


“I am not so sure we have not met each 
other in this neighborhood quite recently/’ 
she continued with extraordinary coldness. 
Nona and Barbara became more and more 
surprised. For although Eugenia was not 
cordial with strangers, she was usually 
civil. Vainly they were searching their 
minds for some remark with which to turn 
the current of the conversation when Eu- 
genia went on: 

“I was on my way home to our little 
farmhouse the other evening, after nursing 
at the field hospital until quite late. I met 
some one, an officer, I think. It was then 
too dark for me to see his face, but I have 
been wondering ever since ” 

At this moment Eugenia’s speech was 
interrupted, but not by one of her com- 
panions. For the heavy door of the draw- 
ing room was pushed slowly open and a 
great dog walked majestically into the 
room. 

He paused for an instant to gaze at his 
mistress. Then receiving her silent per- 
mission, he started a pilgrimage about the 


room. 


144 On the French Firing Line 


Nona shrank behind the smaller Bar- 
bara, for in spite of her usual bravery she 
had a nervous fear of dogs. However, this 
great Dane was not to be feared by guests 
inside his own domain. As he padded 
from one visitor to the other it was plain 
that he was greeting each one of them in 
turn. Mildred came first and was allowed 
to lay her hand on his head, then Nona and 
Barbara. Afterwards the dog moved to- 
ward Eugenia. Within a few feet of her 
he paused, his ears and tail visibly droop- 
ing, and turned imploring eyes upon his 
young master. 

Whatever the signal that passed between 
them, the next moment the splendid crea- 
ture sank down at Eugenia’s feet, burying 
his head between his forepaws. His whole 
attitude indicated a prayer for pardon. 

Immediately after Captain Castaigne got 
up and walked over toward Eugenia. He 
stood silent for half a moment, evidently 
hoping that she might relax from her 
severity. 

Never in his life had he met such an 
extraordinary and difficult young woman! 


The Prejudice Deepens 


145 


As he had been under the same impression 
five minutes after their introduction in 
Paris, why should Fate be so unkind as to 
cause them to see each other again? And 
then to place him in such an awkward posi- 
tion as he now found himself ! 

“I owe you ten thousand pardons, Made- 
moiselle. Ah, more than that, for I con- 
sider my own act unpardonable!” he ex- 
claimed. ‘‘Until you spoke I had been hop- 
ing that I might be mistaken, and that it 
was not you whom I caused to suffer the 
other evening.” 

The young Frenchman cast his eyes im- 
ploringly toward Eugenia, clasping his 
hands together in a dramatic fashion. 

If only Eugenia had been able to smile 
at this moment, how much simpler the fu- 
ture would have been! But remember, 
Eugenia had a Puritan conscience, and a 
Puritan conscience often exacts its pound of 
flesh in payment for sins from other people 
as well as from itself. Moreover, Eugenia 
disliked Captain Castaigne’s manners and 
appearance intensely. To her he appeared 
theatrical and insincere. A simple, straight- 


10 


146 On the French Firing Line 


forward American apology she believed 
she would have accepted at once. But this 
young aristocrat with his too perfect fea- 
tures and physique must suffer for his of- 
fense. No doubt the other girls would 
have forgiven him. He looked like the type 
of man most women would deal gently 
with, so Eugenia felt it would undoubtedly 
be good for him to be snubbed by her. 

As she now stared severely at the young 
Frenchman in answer to his pleading, she 
looked like all the Pilgrim fathers’ por- 
traits that hang on old New England family 
walls melted together into one face. Of 
course, he did not understand her in the 
least. Lieutenant Hume had explained 
that the Miss Peabody he had met in Paris 
was an old maid from Boston. But this 
conveyed nothing to Captain Castaigne’s 
mind. Old maids in France were not in the 
least like this young woman and he had a 
very vague idea of where Boston was and of 
what the city could be like. However, he 
did know that he had offended against a 
Frenchman’s and an officer’s code of man- 
ners and was therefore willing to make any 
possible apology. 


The Prejudice Deepens 


147 


“You will understand that not only did 
I not know you: I did not realize that you 
were a woman or I should never have sent 
my dog to interrupt you. Why, why did 
you not halt when I called out to you.^ If 
only you had given one little sign, made 
the least sound! I thought I should have 
fainted when I beheld a figure upon the 
ground and in the uniform of a Red Cross 
nurse, the uniform I respect most in all the 
world.” 

There could be no doubt of Captain Cas- 
taigne’s sincerity at this moment. Nona 
and Barbara, who were listening with in- 
tense interest to his plea, were deeply 
moved by the tribute he thus paid the Red 
Cross work. But if Eugenia felt this she 
did not reveal it. 

“I prefer not to discuss the accident,” 
she returned, rising from her chair and pre- 
paring to leave. “Certainly I realize that 
you would not have desired to injure me 
personally had you known I was a Red 
Cross nurse. But I cannot see that you 
are justified in sending that great beast of 
a dog to attack wayfarers, simply because 
you do not chance to know who they are.” 


148 On the French Firing Line 


Barbara and Nona had also gotten up 
intending to withdraw with their friend. 
Actually at this moment Barbara had the 
temerity to giggle, although no one but Nona 
was aware of it. It was so absurd to hear 
Eugenia lecturing a French officer with 
regard to his duties and privileges. It was 
even funnier to see the spirit in which he 
accepted his snubbing! 

‘‘But, Mademoiselle,” he continued, 
shrugging his slender shoulders, decorated 
with the gold braid of his rank, “surely you 
must appreciate that in these war times we 
have many dangerous visitors to our en- 
trenchments. One cannot permit a wan- 
derer to remain at large who refuses to give 
an account of himself.^ Besides, my dog 
would have injured no one. He had his 
orders merely to hold the prisoner until I 
could reach him.” 

Captain Castaigne laid his boyish hand 
on the head of the great dog, who at once 
rose up clumsily and stood beside him. 
“Some day. Mademoiselle, I shall pray 
that my dog and I may do you a service to 
atone for our mistake. To many a wounded 


The Prejudice Deepens 


149 


soldier Le Due has brought aid on the 
battlefield. In any case the offense was 
mine, while his only that of obedience to a 
stupid master. Say at least that you for- 
give my dog?” 

The young officer spoke so winningly 
that even Eugenia was compelled to relent 
slightly. However, she still retained an 
uncomfortable vision of herself, face down- 
ward upon the ground with this young 
Captain Castaigne holding the light above 
her and gazing down on her prostrate form. 

Nevertheless, she accepted the large paw 
that Duke stretched forth to her. As the 
eyes of Eugenia and the dog met, the ghost 
of an understanding passed between them. 

The next instant, after saying farewell to 
their hostess, she departed, the other three 
Red Cross girls following her. 

‘‘What a very objectionable young wo- 
man,” the Countess Amelie remarked to 
her son in French, when speaking of their 
guests a short time afterwards. The young 
officer did not inquire which one of the four 
girls she meant. 


CHAPTER XII 


Not Peace But War 

TER that same evening the girls 



were seated in their living room at 


^ the farmhouse. It was almost bed 
time, so heavy curtains had been drawn 
across their small windows, shutting out all 
possible vision of the outside world. 

But wearing their four new kimonos the 
girls were grouped in characteristic attitudes 
about a small fireplace on the right side of 
the room. 

Suddenly, after a warm afternoon, a 
November rain had fallen, bringing with 
it cold and dampness. So, although a fire 
in France is regarded as a great luxury, the 
American girls felt compelled to have one. 
It was not of the generous kind to which 
they were accustomed at home, but was 
built of carefully hoarded sticks and pine 
cones old Francois had brought them from 
time to time as valuable gifts. Therefore, 


( 150 ) 


Not Peace But War 


151 


the girls were huddled closer to the fire and 
to one another than under ordinary cir- 
cumstances. 

Just at present, however, there was no 
talking going on, which was most unusual, 
since Nona and Barbara were especially 
addicted to this feminine habit, while 
neither Eugenia nor Mildred were extraor- 
dinarily silent. However, at the moment 
both Mildred and Nona were writing letters, 
while Barbara was reading a queer, old- 
fashioned book she had discovered stored 
away in the attic of their little farmhouse. 
It was, of course, written in French, and she 
was supposed to be improving her vocabu- 
lary. But the French was so peculiar that 
now and then she was forced to stop to 
consult a dictionary. 

Eugenia was also reading, although her 
literature was of a more serious character. 
She was studying a series of reports the Red 
Cross societies of Europe had recently 
issued. The papers offered important in- 
formation and advice to the Red Cross 
nurses, and Eugenia was too deeply inter- 
ested in her profession to neglect any chance 
for improvement. 


152 On the French Firing Line 


She and Mildred were at a small table by 
the fire with the lamp between them, while 
Nona and Barbara were mounted upon sofa 
cushions, which they had placed on the 
bare floor. 

By and by Barbara glanced up at the 
alarm clock on the mantelpiece. It was 
standing side by side with a tall French 
clock of silver gilt that must once have been 
a bridal offering. However, the French 
clock had these long years been silent, while 
tonight the plebeian American timepiece 
ticked resolutely on. 

Seeing the hour, Barbara yawned, closed 
her book and then, clasping her hands over 
her knees, began rocking slowly back and 
forth. 

No one at first paid the least attention 
to her. 

‘‘It is nearly bed time,” she announced 
finally, “and I do wish everybody would 
stop what they are doing and let us talk for 
a while. Somehow tonight I feel as if we 
were four girls away at a foreign boarding 
school, instead of four young women intent 
upon caring for the wounded. How won- 


Not Peace But War 


153 


derful if by chance we were nearing the end 
of this impossible war!’’ 

After this there was another instant’s 
silence, though each girl was keenly aware 
of Barbara’s last speech. Nona looked up 
toward the little wooden crucifix, belonging 
to the owners of the farmhouse, which had 
been left in its honored place upon the wall. 
Her lips said nothing, but the appeal of her 
spirit went deeper than words. Mildred’s 
eyes suddenly blurred with tears. She had 
been writing to her father, whom she 
adored, and all at once the time seemed 
endless since their farewell. But Eugenia 
merely put down her papers and sat watch- 
ing the younger girl on the floor. 

Except for the fall of the rain the night 
was very still. There was no thunder 
and lightning and no wind. 

Perhaps it was because of what she had 
just been reading, or the discomfort of her 
visit earlier in the afternoon, but Eugenia 
was feeling curiously unstrung. Somehow 
Barbara’s innocent remark disturbed her. 

“I don’t think there is any chance of the 
war’s being over for many a long day, 


154 


On the French Firing Line 


Barbara,’^ she returned curtly. ‘‘Just be- 
cause we have been having a lull in the 
fighting lately you must not feel that work 
is over. That is, not unless you want to 
go home. I often think that best for all 
of you three young girls. If you can feel 
like a boarding school miss, Bab, certainly 
you are an infant. But it is good of you to 
include me among the pupils in view of 
what you really think about my age.” 

Barbara laughed, although a little sur- 
prised and touched by a portion of the 
other girFs speech. For had not Eugenia 
called her Bab and laid her strong, fine hand 
on her hair? Barbara rather liked the feel- 
ing of Eugenia’s fingers. They were firm 
and yet gentle tonight. Always Barbara 
knew that they were singularly handsome 
hands, and more than that, they were 
hands revealing unusual ability. They 
were not small, but slender and long, with 
beautiful almond-shaped nails and a curi- 
ous, vibrant quality at the finger tips. 

Barbara took one of them in her own and 
studied it curiously. 

‘‘You have wonderful nursing hands, 


Not Peace But War 


155 


Eugenia. One feels as if they could take 
away pain and almost bring people back to 
life. Of course, I know you are right about 
the war. It isn’t over just because of the 
heavenly quiet we have been having lately 
in this neighborhood. But do let us be 
frivolous while we can. Mildred, you have 
finished your letter, haven’t you.? Nona, 
when will you ever be through.? To whom 
on earth are you writing that you can have 
so much to say.? Whoever he or she is I 
wish could see you. You look like a Fra 
Angelico angel in that flowing blue robe 
tonight.” 

Just long enough to blow a kiss Nona 
looked up. ‘‘Oh, I am writing to Dick 
Thornton,” she explained casually. had 
a letter from him the other day asking me 
to tell him just what we were doing. ' He 
said Mildred would never tell him h^lf 
enough.” 

A strange little lump mysteriously caught 
in Barbara’s throat. Dick had not yet 
written her and she had thought they were 
as intimate friends as he and Nona. Then 
the smile that was characteristic of her 


156 On the French Firing Line 


ability to see things truthfully hovered 
around her lips. After all, did she really 
desire Dick Thornton to behold Nona 
tonight? Never had she seen her looking 
prettier! She had on a blue crepe wrapper 
the color of the Italian sky, her pale yellow 
hair was unbound and hanging in a single 
long curl down her back. Moreover, the 
fire had flushed her cheeks and made her 
dark eyes shine. 

Then noticing that Eugenia’s eyes were 
studying her gravely, Barbara shook her 
head and laughed. 

‘‘I have a perfectly delicious piece of 
gossip to confide, if you will all listen. If 
you don’t I’m going to bed this minute.” 

Nona sealed her letter. 

‘^What on earth are you talking about, 
Barbara?” she demanded. “How can you 
have heard any more gossip than the rest 
of us? You can’t have found a lost will or 
a lost romance in that old book you dug 
out of the attic.” 

Having at last gained the desired atten- 
tion of her audience, the youngest of the 
four Red Cross girls was not disposed to 
hurry. 


Not Peace But War 


157 


“Well, no, not exactly,’’ she hedged. 
“And yet I have been amusing myself 
fitting the two stories together. Remember 
the young girl we saw dancing for the sol- 
diers the other afternoon ? ” 

“Goodness, yes,” Eugenia replied. “But 
what a surprising person you are, Barbara. 
She is about the last person in the world 
I would have guessed you had in mind. 
What on earth made you think of her 
again ? ” 

Holding up three fingers, Barbara counted 
them out slowly. “One, two, three things 
made me think of her. Now listen to me 
attentively, for ‘hereby hangs a tale.’ 
And perhaps if we exercise enough imagina- 
tion we can turn it into the oldest romance 
of the Troubadours, those poets of old 
Provence whose names stand high in the 
records of song and story. Remember the 
tale of ‘Aucassin and Nicolete’ is over 
seven hundred years old! We may have 
to make a few changes to fit it into modern 
times.” 

Mildred Thornton made no effort to 
stifle her yawn. 


158 On the French Firing Line 


‘‘Oh, goodness gracious, do go on and 
get to your story or I shall retire to bed. 
At least I remember that the blond young 
soldier told you the little dancing girFs 
name was Nicolete. It was odd for you to 
come across the poem so unexpectedly to- 
night. I read it long ago in my literature 
class at school. But where, please, is 
‘Aucassin,’ the hero of your tale, and where, 
for that matter, is Nicolete.^ You told me 
that she was supposed to disappear after 
her dance and no one knew what had be- 
come of her,” Mildred protested. 

Barbara turned appealingly to Eugenia. 
“Do make Mildred hush and not take the 
fine flavor from my romance,” she begged. 
“The young soldier may not have known 
where the young dancing girl lives, but I 
do. Indeed, we all passed her home this 
afternoon. Didn^t you see a little scarlet 
cap on the bayberry bush outside the old 
hut in the woods ? Well, Nicolete has been 
living there recently, with an old grand- 
mother, or an old woman of some kind. 
She is the adopted daughter of some mys- 
terious person, I am told. You recall that 


Not Peace But War 


159 


Nicolete was a slave girl owned by a vis- 
count?” 

Eugenia got up slowly out of her chair, 
don’t mean to be rude, child, but 
really I have to attend to some things be- 
fore I go to bed and your story seems rather 
far fetched. Tell us who Nicolete’s adoring 
lover is and wait until tomorrow for the 
rest.” 

Barbara shrugged her shoulders petu- 
lantly. 

‘‘Of all the disagreeable audiences this 
is the worst!” she asserted. “I thought 
maybe you might be interested in some- 
thing except horrors. The story is that this 
little gypsy girl is really very much in love 
with Captain Castaigne, whom we saw this 
afternoon. That is, she may not be exactly 
in love with him, but the soldiers think she 
is. His mother is terribly angry, because, 
of course, they belong to one of the oldest 
families in France while she is ‘Poor Little 
Miss Nobody of Nowhere.’ Then another 
romantic point is that the little blond 
soldier who gave us the flowers is enam- 
ored of Nicolete. Monsieur Bebe is what 


160 On the French Firing Line 


the other soldiers call him, so I wasn’t so 
far wrong in thinking he looked like a 
baby.” 

Barbara did not observe that Eugenia was 
frowning majestically and that Mildred 
Thornton looked rather bored. 

Nona, however, was smiling good-hum- 
oredly. 

“Hurry up and finish, Barbara. Is Cap- 
tain Castaigne pining away for the fair 
Nicolete, refusing to be a knight or to bear 
arms for his country.^ I thought he was 
supposed to be an extraordinary young of- 
ficer,” Nona questioned. 

Undoubtedly Barbara was crestfallen. 

“I suppoes that is the weakest part of 
the story,” she confessed. “I don’t know 
whether Captain Castaigne cares for this 
particular Nicolete in the least. He does 
not care for anything but his beloved coun- 
try, I believe. But if you won’t be inter- 
ested in my romance, please listen to the 
first part of my poem,” Barbara begged, 
picking up her discarded book. “There is 
a translation here of the first verse: 


Not Peace But War 


161 


“Who would list in right good verse 
Tale of grief full sad to hear, 

Of two children young and fair, 
Nicolete and Aucassin; 

Of the woes he had to bear 
And the doughty deeds to dare 
For his love with face so clear? 
Sweet the song, the fable rare, 
Courtly and well served the fare; 
No man is so full of care. 

None so wretched, none so bare. 
So overdriven by despair 
But the hearing will repair. 

Give him jollity to spare. 

So rich the tale.” 


As she finished the verse Eugenia reached 
down and taking hold of Barbara lifted her 
to her feet. 

‘^You are perfectly absurd with your 
little love tale, dear, and I don’t see the 
least point in it. Still, it has been nice and 
restful to have had a quiet evening like this. 
Perhaps it is better for us to forget the 
tragedies about us now and then. Besides, 
I expect I need more education in romance. 
But go upstairs to bed, all of you at once. 
I’ll close up the house for the night.” 


11 


162 On the French Firing Line 


Eugenia shooed the three girls away as if 
they had been chickens and she a guardian 
hen. But after they left her she did not 
start upon her task at once. Instead she 
stood with her hands clasped looking down 
into the fire. 

Outside the rain must have ceased for she 
no longer heard the noise of it. Indeed, 
the world seemed strangely quiet to ears 
accustomed to the cannonading she had 
heard so often in the past months. 

But she was not thinking of this at the 
present moment, but of her visit to the 
chateau earlier in the afternoon. The call 
had not been an agreeable one, for she had 
never felt more ill at ease. However, 
Eugenia made up her mind that she would 
never accept an invitation there again. 
She might then escape meeting either the 
Countess or her son. And with this thought 
in mind she stopped to put out the last 
flickering flames of the Are. 

There she remained crouched in the same 
position for five minutes, while upstairs in 
their bedrooms the other three American 
Red Cross girls were almost equally inani- 


Not Peace But War 


163 


mate. For after the quiet of the night their 
ears and hearts were suddenly stunned by a 
burst of terrific artillery firing. It was as if 
all the heavy guns of all the armies in 
Europe were concentrated upon this par- 
ticular quarter in France. 

By and by Eugenia rose up wearily with 
her face whiter and older than it had been 
for some time. 

am afraid the Germans have not 
retreated of their own accord,” she said, 
unconsciously speaking aloud. ‘We may 
have some hard days ahead of us. But if 
they do manage to force the French line of 
trenches and reach us, I shall not care so 
much if only the other girls can get away. 
It will not so much matter with a woman 
as old as I am, and I shall be glad to be 
useful.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


Danger 


^LL night the bombardment contin- 
ued. Now and then the girls slept, 
^ but more often they lay awake, 
wondering just where the fighting could be 
taking place and if the field hospital could 
be in danger. 

But at daylight the noise grew less and 
three of the girls fell into deeper slumber 
than they had known since saying good- 
night to one another. 

But Eugenia did not wish to sleep again. 
Very quietly she got up and went about 
their little house hiding away their stores of 
provisions. Then she locked up odd win- 
dows and doors that might by chance be 
forgotten. Afterwards she investigated her 
own bag of nursing supplies and saw that 
everything that might be needed for emer- 
gency work was there. 

Although it was still between five and 

( 164 ) 


Danger 


165 


six o’clock, Eugenia next made things ready 
for breakfast and then went upstairs and 
waked the other girls. Well she knew that 
their services would be needed earlier than 
usual that morning! The night’s fighting 
meant many more wounded, who would be 
brought to them for succor as soon as 
possible. 

Therefore, once they were up and dressed, 
the girls naturally wished to be off to their 
work at once. Yet against their wills Eu- 
genia insisted that they eat unusually large 
breakfasts. She even packed a basket of 
food for them to take to the hospital, 
although their noonday meal was always 
given them there. 

However, nothing was said at breakfast 
about her proceedings, but later Barbara 
followed Eugenia about their little house, 
regarding her suspiciously. 

Desultory firing was still going on; occa- 
sionally one could hear the cracking of a 
score of rifles or the shriek of a bursting shell. 
But this had become a common experience 
in the past nine months to the American 
Red Cross girls and would hardly explain 


166 On the French Firing Line 


Eugenia’s unusually serious view of the 
situation. 

Finally Barbara managed to corner the 
older girl in the kitchen, where she laid her 
hand quietly on her arm. 

‘‘Tell me, Eugenia, please, have you any 
special reason for believing that the fight- 
ing is to be more serious in this neighbor- 
hood than any we have yet seen ? Have the 
soldiers or officers told you to expect un- 
usual trouble? Tell me the truth. I would 
rather know, and I think I can promise 
not to be such a coward as I was when our 
war nursing started.” 

For a moment Eugenia hesitated. Her 
face was serious but not severe this morn- 
ing and the two expressions were very 
unlike. 

“I am going to tell you exactly the 
truth, Barbara, when I say that no one has 
given me information of any kind. I have 
only heard, just as you have, that after 
months of fighting in this locality the 
Germans evacuated their trenches and 
moved back of the line of their own accord. 
But the truth is, I have been feeling hor- 


Danger 


167 


ribly uneasy ever since I became aware of 
the impression this had made on the French 
army near here. I have always feared it 
was a piece of clever strategy on the part 
of the Germans to gain time and perhaps 
to bring up more guns. And all last night, 
while the cannonading was going on, after 
weeks of comparative quiet, I became more 
and more convinced of my idea. Of course, 
it may be absurd, but just the same I have 
the feeling that we ought to be prepared 
for perhaps the most strenuous times of 
our lives. 

Suddenly Eugenia placed her hands on 
either side Barbara’s cheeks, which had 
grown round and rosy as a child’s again, 
with the weeks of outdoor life and the 
easier work. 

want you to promise me something, 
Barbara; promise for yourself and if you 
can to use your influence with the other 
girls. If by chance the enemy should con- 
quer this part of France and our fleld hos- 
pital be forced to move further back, you 
will go back with them. But if anything 
should happen to make this impossible, go 


168 On the French Firing Line 


to the Countess Amelie and remain with 
her. She is a stranger, but she is an older 
woman and Vd feel ever so much happier 
to have you under her protection.” 

Trying her best to show no signs of un- 
easiness at Eugenia^s speech, nevertheless 
Barbara Meade’s face unconsciously whi- 
tened and her blue eyes grew dark. 

‘‘That is a rather impossible promise,” 
she returned, smiling, although her voice 
was not quite steady. “Of course, I am 
not convinced that you are right in your 
fears in the first place, but if you should 
be, why are you asking me to influence 
the other girls to leave this neighborhood? 
You have a great deal more influence that 
I have. Do you mean that you don’t 
intend to go with us ? ” 

At this the older girl walked across the 
room and stood for a moment by the one 
window which looked out upon the woods. 
If she had wished to reply at once it would 
have been impossible. For at this instant 
a tremendous shell exploded at no great 
distance away, shaking the little house and 
making a noise that was almost deafening. 


Danger 


169 


Yet neither girl mentioned the occur- 
rence to the other. 

When it was over Eugenia turned quietly 
around. 

‘‘I expect to remain here if I find I can be 
more useful. But after all, I may be talk- 
ing like a foolish old crow croaking over 
misfortunes that never come. Goodness 
knows, the French have repelled numbers of 
attacks before! Even if the Germans have 
reinforcements they will probably drive 
them back. I only wanted us to be pre- 
pared to meet the worst. But I’m dread- 
fully sorry if I have frightened you unneces- 
sarily, so perhaps it will be best not to 
speak of my foolishness to the other girls. 
Now let’s hurry and be off.” 

But Barbara would not be hurried, 
neither would she be silenced. 

She sat down for a moment on the top of 
a high wooden stool, her feet swinging in 
the air, looking like a little girl of fourteen, 
in spite of the fact that she wore her nurse’s 
cap and uniform. 

“I think you forget that we are Red 
Cross nurses,” Barbara argued thought- 


170 On the French Firing Line 


fully, talking not so much to her com- 
panion as to herself. “So even if the Ger- 
mans do take the trenches in this vicinity 
and occupy the French country, we shall 
be perfectly safe. Our Red Cross badges 
are our protection.” 

The older girl put her arm across the 
younger one’s shoulder, not affectionately, 
but protectingly. 

“More than probably you are right, 
Barbara. But somehow I’d feel happier 
not to have you girls too near here. Many 
of the houses may be burned and the Ger- 
man soldiers excited by their triumph. It 
would be the same in any conquered coun- 
try, I have no doubt. I do not mean that 
I think the German soldiers more brutal 
than other men under like conditions. But 
remember, we have been living in an ene- 
my’s country and nursing their soldiers and 
even if ninety-nine of the soldiers were con- 
siderate, one might be rough and unkind. 
Of course, I can’t make you promise to do 
what I ask against your will, but if the 
danger comes will you remember what I 
have said and try and be prudent?” 


Danger 


171 


And Barbara nodded as she got off her 
stool. 

‘‘I won’t say anything to the others, but 
I am going to put the Red Cross flag on our 
little house before we leave,” she answered, 
speaking in the most matter-of-fact tone. 
‘‘It can’t do any possible harm and I think 
might have been a good idea all along to 
advertise us to our neighbors. Dear little 
‘House with the Blue Front Door,’ I hope 
we may not leave you in many months! 
Somehow I have grown deeply attached 
to you!” 

A little while afterwards the four girls 
started for the field hospital, which was 
situated about a mile on this side of the 
last row of the French trenches. 

Although they had been up for some 
time, it was not more than half-past six 
when they set out. The air was still and 
heavy with smoke. It would have been 
difficult to decide whether the noise of the 
distant guns or the ominous lull in the firing 
was more trying to the nerves. 

But the girls did not discuss the situa- 
tion as they walked along. Indeed, they 


172 On the French Firing Line 


did not talk at all, but plodded quietly 
ahead, intent on the work before them and 
saving all their strength until then. 

A short distance from the field hospital 
they were met by two of the hospital assist- 
ants. One of them joined Eugenia, the 
other kept in the group with the other three 
girls. They were two American college 
boys. 

‘‘Things are pretty lively around here. 
Miss Peabody. I suppose you have been 
hearing the racket all night. The news is 
that the Germans have captured thirty 
yards of the first line of the French trenches, 
but of course we are expecting the French- 
ies to get them back again. Still, it might 
have been wiser if you had stayed in your 
own place today. Your house is a little 
farther back.” 

Eugenia smiled in a friendly fashion at 
her companion. She was surprisingly popu- 
lar with the staff* at the field hospital, 
although ordinarily having little to say to 
them except upon matters concerning her 
nursing. But the young fellow who had 
walked out to meet them was a Harvard 


Danger 


173 


University boy who had come to France to 
assist with the field hospital work. He was 
one of fourteen or fifteen young fellows who 
were able to take down or set up one of the 
new field hospitals, consisting of some 
twenty tents, in about half an hour. 

Naturally as he and Eugenia hailed from 
the Bay State, there was that bond between 
them. 

“Have they been bringing in many 
wounded this morning.^” Eugenia asked as 
quietly as if she had been discussing an 
ordinary topic. 

Her companion nodded. “It has been 
pretty bad,” he returned, trying to speak 
with an affectation of carelessness. The 
fact is he had intended studying to be a 
surgeon after graduating at college and of 
course should not be upset by a few wounded 
men. But it wasn’t very jolly to see a lot 
of fellows suffering and not to be able to 
help them. 

“Then I expect we had best hurry,” 
Eugenia answered. Afterwards neither of 
them spoke again. Yet the young man 
looked at Eugenia admiringly. Perhaps 
she was not as much of a beauty as two of 


174 On the French Firing Line 


the other American Red Cross girls. Nev- 
ertheless, she wasn’t bad looking in her 
way, and certainly a man would like to 
have her take care of him if he happened to 
be bowled over. You could always count 
on her being right there when the time 
came, and knowing exactly what to do. 
One couldn’t help admiring efficiency in 
this world wherever one saw it. 

Certainly the American boy had been 
right in his statement. Conditions at the 
field hospital were pretty bad when the 
four girls arrived there. 

All the beds in the tents were filled with 
the wounded. Yet every five or ten min- 
utes another injured soldier requiring im- 
mediate care would be borne to the hospital 
by his companions until long lines of them 
were stretched out upon the grass. More- 
over, one knew that there were perhaps 
hundreds of others lying hurt in the trenches 
to whom no relief could be given until the 
fighting ceased. 

Now there seemed little prospect that a 
lull could come until the night. Then per- 
haps the bombarding would not be so con- 
tinuous. 


Danger 


175 


However, the Germans must have pre- 
viously located the weak points in the 
enemy’s defences since the cannonading 
had begun the night before. 

Three or four hours passed and no one 
appeared to think there could be danger at 
the field hospital. Perhaps they were too 
busy to think at all. Besides, the firing 
seemed to be directed upon the trenches, 
so that only an occasional shell, failing to 
hit its mark, shrieked over them or burst 
at a distance too far away to cause alarm. 

But it must have been about noon, though 
no one knew the exact hour, when suddenly 
news, came that the French had been forced 
to retreat from the front trenches to the 
second line. Then immediately after the 
Germans directed a number of their large 
guns, not upon the trenches, but upon the 
little town of Le Pretre, which lay behind 
the field hospital, the forest and the cha- 
teau of the Countess Amelie. 

Nor did the shells and shrapnel continue 
to pass over the hospital. Indeed, they 
sometimes seemed to be the actual target of 
the great guns, though this was of course 
not true. 


176 On the French Firing Line 


One of the white tents was torn to pieces 
and a doctor and two nurses hurt. 

Barbara had just come out of this tent 
on an errand for the surgeon. After the 
explosion she found herself standing but a 
few yards from the debris, with Nona Davis 
running toward her. 

‘‘The field hospital is to be moved, Bar- 
bara dear, and they wish all of us to go 
along with them. Eugenia and Mildred 
cannot leave, but you and I are to go back 
to our little house and pack up the things 
we actually must have. Everything and 
everybody connected with the hospital 
must be on the move in the next half hour. 
There is a chance that the French may 
retreat beyond the village, so as to force 
the enemy out of their trenches into the 
open fields. Come, we must run for it. 
I don’t see how we shall ever manage to 
get to our home and back in such a short 
time. But we can help to bring up the 
rear.” 

Nona slipped her arm through Barbara’s 
and the two girls started back for “The 
House with the Blue Front Door.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


The Parting of the Ways 

T he two girls reached the farmhouse 
in a shorter time than they had 
believed possible and at once rushed 
upstairs to their rooms. There they drag- 
ged out their suit-cases, and Mildred’s and 
Eugenia’s as well, and began packing them 
with the clothes they felt to be absolutely 
necessary for their work. 

They knew the wounded must first be 
removed from the field hospital, with only 
the nurse and doctors who would have 
charge of them. But there would also be 
other motor cars to transport the addi- 
tional nurses, physicians and hospital assist- 
ants. Moreover, since all the tents and 
the supplies must afterwards be gotten 
away this would surely require a fair amount 
of time. So in case they were late and 
missed the first of the departing cars, they 
would certainly be stored away in one of 
the later ones. 


12 


( 177 ) 


178 The Parting of the Ways 


“I do wish we had asked Eugenia and 
Mildred to wait until we returned to the 
hospital before they leave/’ Barbara called 
from beneath the bed in Mildred’s room, 
where she was dragging out a pair of shoes. 

‘^It wouldn’t have made any difference 
if we had asked,” Nona answered. “Mil- 
dred is to go in one of the first motor am- 
bulances with the wounded, as she has 
charge of two critically ill soldiers. And 
of course Eugenia will do whatever she 
thinks wisest. Certainly she won’t wait 
for us if she thinks it best to go first.” 

“I am not so sure of that,” Barbara 
replied, and then there was a silence lasting 
for several moments. 

Afterwards Barbara and Nona w:pndered 
why they were not more frightened during 
this half hour. The fact is that they had 
not yet appreciated the seriousness of the 
French retreat, nor the great task of mov- 
ing the field hospital beyond the present 
danger line. 

Moreover, they were too busy to think 
clearly on any subject, and a time of action 
is seldom a time of fear. 


The Parting of the Ways 


179 


Except for the two girls moving hastily 
about, the little farmhouse was delightfully 
quiet and peaceful after the dreadful morn- 
ing at the hospital. Once the thought 
flashed through Barbara Meade’s mind: 
‘‘If only they might stay here in the little 
‘House with the Blue Front Door’ and 
take their chances with the enemy! They 
would be under the protection of the Red 
Cross. However, as they had received 
their orders from an authority higher than 
Eugenia’s, like soldiers they must do as they 
were commanded, without considering their 
personal inclinations. 

So Barbara, having finished Mildred’s 
packing, took her suit-case downstairs by 
the front door. She then went up for Eu- 
genia’s, which Nona had by this time com- 
pleted. It was heavier than the other and 
she staggered a little and had to stop to 
recover her breath after she had placed it 
alongside Mildred’s. 

Therefore, she chanced to be standing 
just beside the front door when the first 
knocking on the outside began. Nona had 
drawn a great, old-fashioned bolt across 


180 On the French Firing Line 


the door after entering, chiefly with the 
idea that they should not be disturbed at 
their tasks. 

Barbara did not open the door at once. 

This knocking was not of an ordinary 
kind, such as one would expect from a 
visitor. It was very insistent, never stop- 
ping for a second; it was indeed, a kind of 
hurried tattoo. 

‘‘Who is there?” Barbara demanded. 
But before any one else could reply Nona 
called from upstairs. 

“Please don’t open the door, Barbara, 
at least not until we are about to start. 
There isn’t an instant to waste in talking 
to any one.” 

In consequence Barbara turned away, but 
immediately after she recognized the voice 
of old Francois. 

“Open, open!” he shouted, first in French 
and then in English, having acquired a few 
words from his four American girl friends. 

Then Barbara drew back the latch and 
Francois tumbled in. 

The old fellow’s brown face was ashen 
and the pupils of his little black eyes were 
dilated with fear. 


The Parting of the Ways 


181 


He had evidently been running until he 
was almost out of breath. 

“The French are retreating, all our army 
at once: They are tramping, tramping 
through the fields and the woods. Madame 
the Countess says you are to come to the 
chateau immediately. Soon the Germans 
will be here and then ” 

The old French peasant flung out his 
withered hands and rolled his eyes upward. 
Words failed to express his pent-up emo- 
tions. 

But Barbara shook her head quietly. 

“You are very kind, Francois. Tell the 
Countess Amelie we are most grateful for 
her thought of us. But we are going to the 
rear with the field hospital stafiF and in any 
case we should be safe as Red Cross nurses. 
Go back to her now, for she needs you more 
than we do. This must be a terrible ex- 
perience for her.” 

Old Francois straightened his crooked 
back against the front door, which he had 
most carefully closed after entering. 

“But you must come and at once. Made- 
moiselle. For the Countess is ill, perhaps 


182 On the French Firing Line 


dying from the shock of the news we have 
just received,” he insisted. ‘‘Her son’s, 
Captain Henri’s, regiment has been de- 
stroyed. Some of the men have been taken 
prisoners, the others killed or wounded. 
And we have had no word from our young 
captain since the fighting began.” 

The old servant’s face worked with emo- 
tion and his eyes filled with tears. 

‘‘Oh, I am so sorry,” Barbara murmured 
pitifully, and then realizing the inadequacy 
of words at such a time, turned to Nona, 
who had at this instant come downstairs, 
carrying her own and Barbara’s bags. 

“What shall we do, Nona?” Barbara 
demanded. “We should ha(ve started back 
to the field hospital before this. And yet 
if we go now and leave the Countess ill with 
no one to look after her, it seems too cruel! 
Suppose I go with Francois and you return 
to the hospital and explain what has de- 
layed me. Tell Eugenia where I am. 
Somehow I feel that perhaps the Countess 
Amelie needs my care more than the soldiers 
do today. There are so many other nurses 
to look after them, while she is old and 
alone.” 


The Parting of the Ways 


183 


Nona’s dark eyes looked troubled, never- 
theless she shook her head. 

“I don’t agree with you, Barbara. We 
ought to be at our posts. We have prom- 
ised our services to the soldiers; besides, 
I could not let you go alone to the Countess, 
Don’t you know that when the German 
soldiers overrun this countryside the cha- 
teau will be one of the first places to be 
seized. It is the most important house in 
the neighborhood and the German officers 
are sure to take up their headquarters 
there.” Nona held out her hand to Fran- 
cois. 

‘‘I too am sorrier than I can say, but we 
can’t do what you ask of us,” she declared, 
‘^we must go back to our work. Please 
try and make the Countess Amelie under- 
stand. Now good-by, Francois, and may 
we meet again in happier times. You must 
move away from the door and let us be off, 
for we are dreadfully late already from 
talking to you.” 

But old Francois did not stir. 

‘^You have lived in Madame’s house, 
you have eaten of her food, and yet when 


184 On the French Firing Line 


she may be dying you will not serve her. 
Because you wear on your arm the badge of 
the Croix de Rouge, does it mean that you 
care only for soldiers? Because Madame 
is a woman and an old one, you feel no in- 
terest in her! Truly if she dies this war 
will have killed her, for one does not die 
only from wounds of the flesh.” 

Barbara’s blue eyes had slowly fllled with 
tears during the old peasant’s speech. But 
now a resolute line formed about the cor- 
ners of her pretty mouth that only showed 
there occasionally. 

“I am going to the Countess, Nona,” 
she remarked quietly. You must do what- 
ever your conscience prompts you to do. 
Mine tells me that we have accepted a great 
deal from the Countess and now she needs 
me more than any one else. If the hospital 
staff consider me a deserter, I cannot help 
it. Besides, I almost promised Eugenia 
that I would go to the Countess Amelie 
if the Germans conquered this part of the 
countryside. It was for another reason 
I promised, but tell her, please, and she 
will understand. Good-by; I’ll join you 


The Parting of the Ways 185 


as soon as possible. Don’t worry about 
me. 

Barbara stooped and picked up her bag. 

“I’ll find my way to the chateau alone. 
Fortunately, I know the way,” she added. 
“Francois, you must go with Miss Davis, 
so as to carry the other suit-cases. Then 
you’ll come back to Madame as quickly as 
possible.” 

Taking a watch out of her pocket, Nona 
now glanced at it. 

“I am coming with you, Barbara. Al- 
ready we are nearly an hour behind the 
time when the field hospital expected to be 
on its way. If I return now I shall either 
find that everybody and everything has de- 
parted, or else it will merely be an additional 
trouble to dispose of me at the last. A 
day’s loss of my services cannot make such 
a great difference. So we can first find out 
how greatly the Countess Amelie needs us, 
and then tomorrow, one or both of us must 
somehow manage to rejoin the army. The 
French retreat may not be so universal as 
we fear.” 

By this time the blue front door had been 


186 On the French Firing Line 


flung open by Francois, so that outside the 
girls could hear the tramping of many feet. 
But the feet were moving with a rhythmical 
swing that proved the French soldiers were 
at least retreating in good order. So far 
there had been no rout by the enemy. 

Now Frangois was in the greatest hurry of 
the three. He had taken Barbara’s bag 
out of her hand and now laid hold of Nona’s. 
Then he set off, trotting so rapidly down the 
path, in spite of his age and crooked legs, 
that the two girls could scarcely keep up 
with him. Afterwards he led their way 
into the woods, skirting along by the edge 
of the trees and keeping safely out of 
sight of the soldiers, although numbers of 
them were marching through the same 
woods on the farther side. 

It was by this time early in the after- 
noon, but the girls found the chateau undis- 
turbed. Indeed, the autumn sun shone 
down upon it with the same tranquillity 
as though the world had been at peace 
instead of war. Across the neglected lawn 
a peacock stalked as majestically and dis- 
dainfully as if the old gardens had been 


The Parting of the Ways 


187 


filled with the belles and beaus in the silks 
and satins of a more picturesque age. 

However, the two American girls were 
living in a too tragically workaday world. 
They had no thought and no time for 
beauty, since a shorter and more com- 
pelling word urged them on. 

The lower part of the old chateau was 
deserted, and as neither Nona nor Barbara 
knew the way upstairs, Francois preceded 
them. He opened first the door of the 
Countess Amelie’s room, but found it 
empty. Without hesitating, he then turned 
and walked quickly down a narrow corri- 
dor to another room at almost the opposite 
end of the house. Knocking at this door 
and receiving no answer, he crept in softly, 
beckoning to the two girls to follow him. 

But this room was so vast that neither 
Nona nor Barbara immediately discovered 
its occupant. Evidently it was a man’s 
room and must have covered the entire 
southern end of the chateau. Yet It was 
almost bare of furniture of a conventional 
kind. On the walls old muskets hung and 
bayonets of a bygone generation. The floor 


188 On the French Firing Line 


was of stone, uncarpeted, and there were 
only two chairs, a tall chest of drawers and a 
single iron bed in the apartment. If the 
young Captain Castaigne was a dandy, as 
Eugenia considered him, certainly there was 
nothing about his room to suggest it! 

Bui Barbara was first to reach the bed, 
because she first saw that the Countess 
Amelie had thrown herself upon it. She 
may have fainted earlier in the day and 
thus alarmed Francois, but at present she 
showed no signs of serious illness. Her face 
was drawn with suffering, nevertheless she 
attempted to rise and speak to her guests 
as soon as Barbara approached. The 
Countess Amelie belonged to the ancient 
aristocracy of France whose women went 
to the guillotine with smiles upon their 
faces. It was a part of their pride of class 
not to betray their deeper emotions. 

Yet Barbara found the small hand held 
out to her extremely cold, and it was with 
an effort that the older woman found her- 
self able to stand. 

“I am more than glad you have been 
able to reach the chateau. Miss Meade,” 


The Parting of the Ways 189 


she began. ‘^Doubtless you know as well 
as I do that our French army is in retreat 
and that the German army may occupy this 
neighborhood at any hour. But where are 
your other two friends.^ I promised my 
son that in case of danger I would send for 
you. He could not contemplate the thought 
of your being alone if the barbarians over- 
whelmed us.” 

The Countess spoke quietly enough, yet 
there was bitter antagonism in her voice. 
One could hardly expect a French woman to 
feel otherwise at an hour like this. Re- 
member also that this was a portion of 
France near the border of Alsace-Lorraine, 
which the Germans took as a part of their 
booty at the close of the Franco-Prussian 
war. 

The French people had not recovered 
from the bitterness of that defeat when the 
great war began. 

Barbara was looking somewhat non- 
plussed at finding that the Countess was 
not in need of her services as a nurse, so she 
allowed Nona to join her and make the 
first reply. 


190 On the French Firing Line 


“We were under the impression that you 
were ill and needed us, or we should not 
have come,” Nona answered. “The field 
hospital has been moved and we intended 
leaving with them, so we should have been 
as safe as possible. Our friends. Miss 
Thornton and Miss Peabody, have gone on 
with the staff. Still, we appreciate your 
wishing to protect us,” she ended gently. 

In reality, both Nona and Barbara were 
deeply chagrined at the position in which 
they now found themselves. Yet there was 
no doubt that the older woman had meant 
to be kind. Besides, nothing could be 
gained by making a protest now. 

Both girls accompanied the Countess 
Amelie out of the room. 

“I am alone here, except for Francois,” 
she explained. “If the Germans come this 
way, doubtless my chateau will be one of 
the first places which they will require for 
their own use. Therefore, it is necessary 
that we be ready to leave at once. You 
need not be frightened; Francois, will go 
with us, and there is a secret passage lead- 
ing away from the chateau, through which 


The Parting of the Ways 191 


we can make our escape without danger. 
I am going to ask you to help me pack a 
small store of provisions, as I think we will 
be happier with work to occupy our hands.” 

Not a word of her anguish over her son’s 
uncertain fate, nor a protest at being forced 
in her old age to turn her back upon the 
home of her ancestors! Surely this was 
aristocracy of the spirit as well as of class, 
Nona and Barbara both thought to them- 
selves, although neither said a word to the 
other upon the subject. 

That afternoon, between five and six 
o’clock, Francois brought word that the 
German army had captured the last line of 
French trenches and would soon overflow 
into the countryside. 

Ten minutes later the Countess Amelie, 
Nona, Barbara and Frangois, voluntarily 
deserting the chateau, started upon an un- 
certain journey to overtake the retreating 
French army. 


CHAPTER XV 


The Other Two Girls 

J UST as Nona and Barbara had antici- 
pated, Mildred Thornton rode away 
with her two patients in one of the 
first motor ambulances that hurriedly with- 
drew from the field hospital to remove the 
wounded from the scene of danger. But 
by another strange mischance Eugenia was 
left behind. 

She had, of course, continued to assist 
with the hospital work so long as there was 
anything for her to do. However, she had 
previously insisted that she be allowed to 
depart in one of the last of the motor vans. 
For the truth is she was unwilling to desert 
the neighborhood until Nona and^Barbara, 
having returned from the farmhouse, were 
able to go along with her. 

So during the last quarter of an hour, 
when only the tents were left to be piled 
upon the last trucks, Eugenia, having no 
more duties to perform, wandered a short 

( 192 ) 


The Other Two Girls 


193 


distance away. She only went about an 
eighth of a mile along the path that led in 
the direction of the farmhouse and there 
sat down under a tree to wait for the other 
two girls and to watch for a prearranged 
signal. 

Until she began to rest Eugenia really 
had no idea of how tired she was. She 
had been up and at work since five o’clock 
that morning under conditions that would 
have exhausted the strongest person In the 
world. 

Now there were deafening noises rever- 
berating all about her, while over her head 
hung a heavy pall of smoke, sometimes 
darkening the atmosphere, but now and 
then lifting enough to permit a shaft of 
light from the November sun to shine 
through. 

At present the firing suggested that the 
fighting was still at some distance away, 
nevertheless the girl realized that the battle 
must be drawing nearer and nearer, for 
already a portion of the retreating French 
army had passed within sight of the dis- 
banded hospital. 


13 


194 On the French Firing Line 


Eugenia was not conscious of being as 
greatly depressed by the French defeat as 
the other three American Red Cross girls 
had been. ’ Her chief thought was the 
appalling increase of the wounded that this 
day’s battle must have caused. At this 
moment there must be hundreds, perhaps 
thousands of boys and men lying wounded 
and dying in the fields and trenches with 
no one to bring them aid. 

^Hf only one could do more to help!” the 
girl murmured, clasping her hands wearily 
together in her lap, but at the same time 
keeping her eyes fixed upon the path ahead. 

‘^Why in the world don’t those children 
come on.^” she next asked impatiently. 
‘‘Certainly they should not have been 
trusted to undertake our packing. I don’t 
doubt they are putting our new Paris 
clothes into the bags!” 

As she made this speech, believing that 
she heard some one approaching, Eugenia 
half rose. Then the next instant she was up 
and standing with her back braced against 
the tree, upon which she had been pre- 
viously resting. For bounding toward her. 


The Other Two Girls 


195 


with his tongue hanging out and his head 
lolling from side to side, was the dog be- 
longing to Captain Henri Castaigne. 

After her past experience it was impos- 
sible for Eugenia not to feel nervous, for 
the silver-gray brute was of enormous size 
and strength. Yet when the dog reached 
her side, for the second time he crouched 
down at Eugenia’s feet. This time, how- 
ever, instead of hanging down his head, he 
turned his gray-brown eyes upward upon the 
girl’s with such a depth of entreaty that, 
without knowing why, she was moved. 

‘‘It is all right, Duke, I forgive you all 
the past, even if I have not forgiven your 
master!” she exclaimed, speaking in a 
friendly tone, although scorning to use the 
dog’s French name. “But do run home 
now to your mistress. For this, I trust, is 
a final farewell between us, as we shall 
probably never meet again.” 

Even though she spoke thus lightly, 
Eugenia was conscious that there might 
be a possible tragedy in the fact that Duke 
could not return to his master. Perhaps 
Captain Castaigne was even now among 
the missing. 


196 On the French Firing Line 


However, the great Dane gave no sign 
of having heard Eugenia’s command, but 
instead gave her another look of profound 
appeal. When she showed no indication 
of having understood his meaning, he got 
up and caught her dress firmly between 
his teeth. Then not ungently but authori- 
tatively he began dragging her along with 
him. 

For the first moment Eugenia was too 
surprised to make any special resistance. 
The next she called out angrily to the dog 
to let go; and then, finding he had no idea 
of obeying her, tore her coat from between 
his clenched teeth. 

Duke’s answer was to gaze at her re- 
proachfully and then to gather a larger 
portion of her clothing in his mouth and 
start off faster the second time, with the 
girl obliged to follow. 

Naturally Eugenia was angry. This 
objectionable dog appeared designed by 
fate to be a nuisance to her. Yet she was 
unable to make up her mind what to do. 
She could tear herself away again with 
another disastrous result to her clothing; 


The Other Two Girlsl 


197 


besides, the dog would doubtless seize hold 
on her again. And to struggle with the 
enormous creature could only bring mis- 
fortune upon herself, since there was no 
doubt of Duke’s determination. 

So for twenty yards or more Eugenia 
moved along without further protest, then 
she concluded to call and summon some one 
to her assistance. No one chanced to be in 
sight, but there were, of course, several of 
the hospital workers not far away, so that 
in case Duke turned dangerous a shot 
would quickly put an end to him. 

With this thought in mind Eugenia again 
looked at the dog. He was such a mag- 
nificent creature it would be a tragedy to 
kill him. Besides, was she not so sick at 
heart at all the unnecessary waste of death 
that she would not voluntarily destroy the 
tiniest spark of life ? 

Something of this feeling must have at 
this instant communicated itself to Duke’s 
intelligence, for suddenly and of his own 
accord he released Eugenia’s dress. But 
instead of leaving her he walked on a few 
steps further, stopped, turned around again 


198 On the French Firing Line 


and made a second appeal and then went 
slowly on a few feet more. 

Afterwards Eugenia decided that she 
must have been abnormally dull at this 
time. But then her attention had been so 
concentrated upon the hope of Barbara’s 
and Nona’s immediate return. For it was 
not until Duke had made his third demand 
that his purpose finally occurred to her. 
Of course, he wished her to go with him to 
find some lost place or person. 

Eugenia never considered the possible 
distance that she might be expected to 
travel, for all at once she seemed curiously 
under the domination of the dog’s desire. 
For she straightway put her hand reassur- 
ingly upon Duke’s collar. 

“It is all right, old fellow, I understand 
at last and will come along with you,” she 
said aloud. 

Then in a perfectly matter-of-fact fashion 
Eugenia moved along by the dog’s side. 
Soon after she knew that he was leading her 
in the direction of the French trenches 
which were directly within the firing line. 
However, It did not strike her that she was 


The Other Two Girls 


199 


facing any greater peril than she and the 
field hospital staff had been enduring all 
day. For one grows accustomed to war’s 
horrors as well as to most other things. 

Nevertheless, Eugenia flinched many 
times as the dog led the way, walking now 
and then beside men’s bodies that did not 
stir either at their approach or after their 
passing. Yet Red Cross nurses must learn 
a certain amount of stoicism to be of real 
value in their work. 

Once or twice Eugenia wondered if she 
could possibly manage to finish the task 
Duke required of her in time to leave with 
the last of the field hospital staff, yet it 
was odd how secondary this idea became. 

Some other guiding force had taken pos- 
session of her at the time, for the purpose 
in hand seemed the one thing supremely 
worth while. 

Only through one’s imagination can the 
picture of a battlefield be really seen, for 
even when the eyes behold it, the spirit 
must act as its interpreter. 

For nearly a year Eugenia had been nurs- 
ing the soldiers in this worst of all possible 


200 On the French Firing Line 


wars, yet it was not until this afternoon 
that she had ever visited a battleground 
while the fighting was going on. 

But fortunately the field to which Duke 
brought her was no longer a center of the 
firing. The field lay just behind a trench 
which but a few hours before had been a 
target for German artillery. However, 
the trench had already been captured, so 
that many of the soldiers who lay dead upon 
the ground had been killed during their 
effort to retreat. 

Therefore the accident that occurred was 
not one which could have been reasonably 
expected. 

With his great head bowed Duke was 
treading slowly, as if he realized the ugli- 
ness of the human tragedy surrounding 
them. Neither was Eugenia thinking of 
herself; nevertheless, a moment later and 
she lay stretched upon the battleground, 
as still and unconscious as any of the 
recumbent figures by whom she had so 
lately passed. 

There for hours Duke stood sentinel 
beside her, yet not knowing whether he 


The Other Two Girls 


201 


should go or remain. For while love com- 
pelled him in one direction, his sense of 
honor constrained him to stay by the com- 
panion who had fallen by his side. 

Did Duke realize his own responsibility 
in the catastrophe, that his honor prevailed ? 

The entire afternoon passed and finally 
evening came and yet Eugenia did not stir. 
She looked an incongruous figure on the 
field of the dead. For although she wore 
her nursing cloak it had floated open as she 
fell, revealing her woman’s uniform with 
the cross of crimson upon her arm. 


CHAPTER XVI 


The Discovery 

B ut between eight and nine o’clock 
on that same evening Eugenia 
opened her eyes. She was unable to 
think clearly at first and stared in amaze- 
ment at the canopy of blue sky above her 
head. What had become of the familiar 
ceiling of her room at the farmhouse? 

But then her head was aching dully so 
that it made her more uncomfortable to 
try to think at all. She did not even wish 
to call for the other girls, because Barbara 
would^robably come to her in a little while. 
She remembered that Barbara had been 
especially kind when she had just such 
another absurd headache a short time 
before. 

Closing her eyes again, Eugenia rested. 
But something warm and soft seemed to 
be moving about near her face, breathing 
over her in a curious, enveloping fashion 
( 202 ) 


The Discovery 


203 


impossible from a human being. It was 
like a damp cloud. 

Putting out her hand, Eugenia touched 
Duke’s moist nose, and then almost in- 
stantly returned to a knowledge of the 
situation. 

She recalled in detail the events of the 
past afternoon, but could find no explana- 
tion for her own presence here upon the 
ground among the wounded. For she was 
not suffering sufficient pain to suggest that 
she had been shot by a stray rifie ball from 
the enemy’s lines. Moreover, Eugenia 
found that she could move both her arms 
and legs without difficulty. They were 
stiff, but that may have been due either to 
fatigue or to her position upon the earth. 
However, the ache in her head continued 
so that Eugenia put up her fingers to her 
temple. There was a curious something 
clotted on her hair at the left side, which 
she at once knew to be blood. 

Then she\nderstood what had happened. 
A piece of shell from an exploding bomb 
must have struck and stunned her into 
unconsciousness. However, it must have 


204 On the French Firing Line 


come from such a distance that it had 
spent its force, for she was not seriously 
injured. Already the slight scalp wound 
had closed and was no longer bleeding. 

Eugenia rose up slowly to a sitting posi- 
tion, realizing fully the gravity of her situa- 
tion. Yet she would not allow herself to 
reflect upon its horrors. She must decide 
what she should best do. Would it be 
wiser to stay where she was for the rest of 
the night or try to seek assistance? Yet 
what had taken place in the countryside 
during the afternoon while she lay in a 
stupor? Were the French or the Germans 
in possession of the neighborhood? 

However, Eugenia was not to be allowed 
to reach her decision alone. For no sooner 
had she gotten up than Duke once more 
began pulling at her dress, very softly at 
first, as one who has respect for an invalid, 
but no less insistently. 

A dog’s devotion and a dog’s persistence 
are two qualities worthy of human admira- 
tion and wonder. 

At this moment Eugenia felt both. She 
laid her hand quietly and aflfectionatcly 6n 
Duke’s head. 


The Discovery 


205 


I can’t go with you again. I am too 
used up, Duke, to help you find your 
friend. You would simply have another 
victim on your hands. But you need stay 
with me no longer. I shall wait here for 
you until daylight.” 

But though Eugenia waved her hand in 
token of dismissal and farewell, the dog 
did not leave her, although he seemed to 
appreciate the fact that she was unable to 
accompany him. For he gave up his hold 
on her and merely sat down reflectively 
by her side, as if he too were trying to de- 
cide what course it was wise to pursue. 

It was plain that Duke was wretchedly 
unhappy. If he could not show his grief 
in a human fashion, he had his own especial 
methods. When Eugenia put her arm 
about kis body she could feel the anguished 
beating of his heart. 

‘‘I wonder who it can be, Duke, that 
you wish to find so ardently?” the girl 
questioned. ‘^Surely some one whom you 
love very deeply! I am sorry to be so 
useless and it is dreadful to think of your 
friend’s long waiting for your return, so 


206 On the French Firing Line 


you must go, Duke, even if I cannot go 
with you. Then if you are no longer 
needed, come back to me.” 

Eugenia made this long speech aloud in a 
pleading tone, nevertheless she again dis- 
covered that it was easier to say what this 
great dog should do than to force him to 
obey’s one’s will. 

Yet while Eugenia was reflecting upon 
this fact she had her moment of inspiration. 
She knew that in many parts of the army 
dogs had been trained for searching out 
the wounded. Only a short time before 
in the papers distributed by the French 
Red Cross Society she had read that these 
dogs were sent forth with long ropes tied 
about their necks, so that when possible the 
wounded were thus dragged to places of 
aid. 

Eugenia had no rope, but one often 
wonders why women are accused of being 
without inventive talents. So far it is 
true that only a few of their inventions 
have been of world value; to find them 
one must seek among the homes. This 
American girl at once slipped off her long 


The Discovery 


207 


cloth nursing coat. It was of strong, well- 
woven material, yet she managed within a 
few moments to tear it into strips and then 
to knot the strips firmly together. 

Then she tied the long cord about Duke’s 
neck. One could not tell whether the dog 
would understand his mission, or whether 
the rope would be of service when Duke 
reached his goal. Yet in every uncertainty 
in life one must simply attempt the thing 
that seems most intelligent. And Eugenia 
felt convinced that Duke would bring his 
friend back to her. Then she could decide 
on what should be done next. 

Duke did seem to understand, for as soon 
as Eugenia had finished her task and com- 
manded him to be gone, he trotted obe- 
diently off until his great shadow was lost 
in the distance. 

Then the girl lay down again. She had 
natural self-control and her nursing had 
taught her even more. She must sleep if 
possible and in any case not let herself 
dwell on her own presence here within the 
field of the dead. 

When Eugenia closed her eyes the moon 


208 On the French Firing Line 


had not risen and the night was fairly dark. 
Half an hour later, when she reopened 
them, a full moon had flooded the field 
with light. She could see Duke approach- 
ing at some yards away. He was moving 
slowly and it was difficult at first to find 
out the reason. Eugeni arose quickly to 
her feet. Yes, it was evident now: he was 
drawing someone along behind him. 

The girl walked forward to meet the dog 
and his burden. Then, although she had 
been growing daily more accustomed to 
war and its inevitable sorrows, she stopped 
and drew in her breath sharply. The next 
instant Eugenia had forgotten everything 
but that she was a Red Cross nurse whose 
purpose was to do whatever she could to 
relieve suffering. 

The figure that the dog dragged along on 
the ground had the face turned downward. 
But when she lifted the body up Eugenia 
was not surprised to recognize in the white, 
still features, the face of young Captain 
Henri Castaigne. All along she had thought 
it probable that Duke could feel no such 
intense devotion for any one save his master. 


The Discovery 


209 


After the dog’s return the young officer 
had somehow managed to tie the long strip 
of cloth about his own body. He must 
have realized that he would lose conscious- 
ness on his journey to find succor, for he 
had been cruelly wounded in both legs. 

Never before had Eugenia felt more pain- 
fully helpless. There were so many things 
which should be done for the young soldier 
at oiice and she was so unable to do any 
one of them. 

Of course, she knelt and felt the action 
of his pulse and heart, finding neither so 
feeble as she had feared. Then Eugenia, 
who was given to definite actions, made 
another decision. 

It would be impossible to be of service 
to Captain Castaigne here in an open field 
with no water near, so far as she knew. 
She had a little in the canteen in her pocket, 
but this would only be enough for him to 
drink and would certainly be insufficient 
for the cleansing of his wounds. Besides, 
even with the use of the small flashlight 
every Red Cross nurse carries, she was 
unable to discover whether the rifle balls 


210 On the French Firing Line 


were still imbedded in her patient’s flesh. 
Certainly he must be carried to some place 
where he could receive proper attention, 
but in the meantime Eugenia thanked 
Providence that she had^with her her bag of 
first aid appliances. It had been strapped 
about her waist while she sat under the tree 
earlier in the day, waiting to start out with 
the field hospital staff. Until now she had 
no thought or use for it. 

Eugenia used the necessary antiseptics 
and then bound the wounds as carefully as 
possible. But she made no effort to bring 
her patient back to consciousness. For the 
purpose she had in mind it would be best 
that he feel and know as little as possible. 

Once her task accomplished Eugenia 
again wound her improvised rope about 
Captain Castaigne’s waist. Again she sig- 
naled Duke to start upon a journey, but 
this time she formed a member of the little 
party. 

Her idea was to get the wounded officer 
back in the neighborhood of the field hos- 
pital, and then if she could find no aid there, 
somehow to reach their own farmhouse. 


The Discovery 


211 


From there word could be sent to the 
chateau. 

But the trip was a terrible one and took 
longer hours than one could have imagined. 
Now and then Eugenia would try to assist 
by supporting the young officer’s body 
with her own strength. But as she could 
not lift him entirely this only seemed to 
make the task more difficult for the devoted 
Duke. Often they were obliged to stop 
and then Eugenia would kneel down be- 
side the body to find out if the young man 
was still alive. 

It was about dawn when they arrived 
at last in the neighborhood of the former 
French field hospital, where the four Amer- 
ican girls had been nursing. But Eugenia 
found few traces of the hospital left. Every- 
where in the vicinity the ground had been 
trampled under foot. The white tents had 
been folded, and like the proverbial Arabian 
tents, had silently stolen away. Neither 
was there a single human being about. 

However, Eugenia had anticipated this. 
But she had also steadfastly hoped that 
here upon more familiar ground she might 
make some useful discovery. 


212 On the French Firing Line 


Ordering Duke to remain quiet beside 
his burden, Eugenia started upon a pil- 
grimage. She must find something to make 
the trip to the farmhouse more endurable, 
more possible for the young French soldier. 
Yet she could not make up her mind to 
desert him in order to seek for help. 

At first, the girl could, of course, find 
nothing. But by wandering around on the 
outskirts of the grounds, where the de- 
serted hospital had formerly stood, Eugenia 
finally came across an old wheelbarrow. 
It had been used for bringing vegetables to 
the hospital staff, and being of no value 
had been left behind. 

Scarcely an ideal motor ambulance for a 
wounded officer. Nevertheless Eugenia 
seized upon the wheelbarrow with almost as 
much enthusiasm as if it had been. For at 
least it had wheels and she would be able 
to push it. 

Naturally this was a hard task, but one 
should not think upon the difficulty when 
a task is to be accomplished. 

The blue front door of the little farm- 
house was standing open when Eugenia 


The Discovery 


213 


reached home. Half lifting and half drag- 
ging her patient, she finally succeeded in 
placing him upon a small couch in their 
living room. 

Then, being the methodical person she 
was, Eugenia went directly to the kitchen, 
made herself a cup of coffee and drank it. 
For her strength had almost given out and 
she knew not what work might lie ahead of 
her. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Recognition 

H owever, it was nearly noon be- 
fore Eugenia made the discovery 
that the entire French army in 
the vicinity had retreated, leaving all the 
country nearby in the hands of the Ger- 
mans. Only then did she appreciate the 
difficulty of concealing a young French 
officer in her home, who would doubtless be 
taken prisoner if his presence and his iden- 
tity were discovered. 

Her information came about In this 
fashion. For two hours Eugenia worked 
with her patient, washing his wounds and 
even managing to extract a bullet which 
had lodged near the surface. Also she 
bathed his face and poured brandy between 
his haggard lips until he opened his eyes, 
only to close them again in utter exhaus- 
tion. Finally, when she could do nothing 
more, Eugenia walked to her front door to 

( 214 ) 


Recognition 


215 


get some fresh air. She meant in a few 
moments to go to the Chateau d’Amelie 
and send old Francois to the nearest village 
for a doctor. So far it simply had not 
occurred to her that^Frangois and his mis- 
tress might have deserted the chateau for 
the same reason that had compelled the 
removal of the field hospital. 

Outside, like a tired sentinel, Eugenia 
found Duke asleep in the front yard. Then 
while hesitating to wake him, even to keep 
guard over his master, she became vaguely 
conscious that soldiers were marching past. 
The next instant she realized that their 
uniforms were German and not French and 
that they wore the eagle triumphant on 
their shining helmets. 

They were passing close to the little 
‘‘House with the Blue Front Door,” so 
that Eugenia wondered why no one stopped 
to investigate it. Then she remembered 
that Barbara had hung the Red Cross 
emblem outside and that the soldiers were 
treating it with extraordinary respect. 

Would they continue to do this after dis- 
covering that the only person beside herself 


216 On the French Firing Line 


under the protection of the Red Cross flag 
was an enemy’s officer? 

Eugenia was convinced otherwise. Cap- 
tain Castaigne would be promptly taken 
prisoner so soon as she told of his where- 
abouts and sent to a hospital within the 
German lines. And to be moved at the 
present time would probably mean the 
young officer’s death. 

Calling Duke inside, Eugenia closed and 
bolted the blue front door. Then she con- 
sidered whether she could manage to keep 
the young Frenchman concealed and yet 
take the proper care of him. It would be 
impossible to expect the assistance of a 
physician, for the nearest village would 
assuredly be occupied by the Germans and 
to demand a doctor must mean the betrayal 
of her patient. 

It was possible, however, that she could 
hide Captain Castaigne away for a time at 
least, while she remained unmolested in the 
little farmhouse, with Duke as her pro- 
tector. She would explain to the German 
officer in command just what had taken 
place that caused her to be left behind by 


Recognition 


217 


the hospital staff. Then there would be 
little reason for interfering with her, unless 
the farmhouse should be required for the 
shelter of the soldiers. But as it was small 
and somewhat out of the way she hoped it 
might be ignored. 

The chiefly important thing was to wait 
quietly until the next morning and then 
find out Captain Castaigne’s condition. 
Eugenia meant to make as brave a fight for 
his life as possible. If he recovered there 
would be time enough to determine whether 
he should surrender or make an effort to 
escape and rejoin his command. Fortu- 
nately there were both provisions and 
medical supplies stored in the farmhouse. 
Judge Thornton had sent fresh orders of 
both from Paris quite recently. 

So for the rest of the afternoon and eve- 
ning Eugenia sat by her patient while Duke 
crouched on the floor near them both. No 
one disturbed them; the little house might 
have been in the center of a vast desert for 
any human interest it created. The day 
before Eugenia had closed its outside win- 
dows and doors, and since had opened only 
the one window necessary for light and air. 


218 On the French Firing Line 


For the greater part of the night Captain 
Castaigne was delirious from a high fever. 
Eugenia knew that it would be almost im- 
possible for him to escape blood poison, 
after the dirt had been ground into his 
wounds from the long dragging of his body 
on the earth. 

Nevertheless, now and then the young 
officer slept the sleep of utter exhaustion, 
with Duke and Eugenia both slumbering 
beside him whenever this opportunity came. 

Eugenia did not question the reason for 
her care. She had not liked the young 
Frenchman at their first meeting in Paris. 
Certainly their second accidental meeting 
in the woods had not increased her liking. 
Moreover, she had been entirely out of 
sympathy with him, with his mother and 
with their French ideas and environment 
on the afternoon of her one call. 

Yet none of these things counted in the 
least with Eugenia. Captain Castaigne 
was a French soldier, one of the men wffiom 
she had come to Europe to nurse in case he 
needed her care. Therefore he should 
have the best it was in her power to offer. 


Recognition 


219 


Once, while in the act of giving him medi- 
cine to relieve his fever, the young man 
murmured his mother’s name and for the 
instant Eugenia was moved to sympathy. 
All the rest of the time her feeling was 
entirely impersonal. Captain Castaigne 
was merely a patient who must if possible 
be kept alive and later restored to health. 
If she had any feeling in the matter Eugenia 
was sorry that she had ever made the young 
man’s acquaintance before this night. 

Nevertheless, at about six o’clock the 
following morning, after an entire hour of 
refreshing sleep, Eugenia opened her eyes 
to find her patient gazing steadfastly at 
her. For the time being his delirium had 
passed and she realized that he recognized 
her and longed to ask questions but was 
still too weak and ill to speak. 

A half an hour afterwards, after a few 
sips of clam bouillon which chanced to be 
among the household stores. Captain Cas- 
taigne said a few words. 

^^What does this meanV'^ he asked in 
painstaking English, appreciating even in 
his present condition that Miss Peabody 


220 On the French Firing Line 


preferred the conversation to take place 
in her native tongue. 

Eugenia thought quickly. The young 
officer could not entirely grasp the situa- 
tion even if she were able to tell him the 
entire story. Moreover, at present the 
story was too long and too exciting for him 
to hear. Also, he might feel burdened by 
his obligation to her and unwilling for her 
to make the sacrifices necessary for his 
safety if he learned the truth now. 

So she gazed back at him with the quiet 
serenity that made her so valuable a nurse. 

‘‘You understand you have been hurt.^ 
Well, I have been appointed to take charge 
of you. You are to see no one else for a 
time, not even your mother. Try to sleep 
now, for you must be as quiet as possible.” 

When Captain Castaigne immediately 
closed his eyes, Eugenia choked back a sigh 
of relief. Evidently so far he had paid no 
attention to his strange surroundings. It 
was her presence alone that had surprised 
him, and he would probably be unable to 
make further inquiries for some time to 
come. Possibly he would not even recog- 


Recognition 


221 


nize her again. For Eugenia understood 
the nature of the disease with which she 
was to do battle and realized that there 
might be weeks of continued delirium. 

For the next fourteen days Eugenia was 
correct in her prognostication. But as 
they were a rather dreadful two weeks for 
her she would never talk of them freely 
afterwards. All that time she had but faint 
hope that the young soldier would live, 
and except for her patient and Duke she 
was completely alone. 

However, Eugenia managed to get the 
young fellow upstairs and into Barbara’s 
former blue bedroom, although he was never 
conscious of the change. 

She was compelled to do this, or else 
have her patient discovered. For she was 
not to remain entirely undisturbed while 
the victorious German soldiers overran the 
entire neighborhood. 

One afternoon, three days after their in- 
stallation, when fortunately she chanced to 
be working in her kitchen, a tremendous 
knocking sounded upon the blue front door. 
Immediately Eugenia conceived that it was 


222 On the French Firing Line 


some one sent to Inquire why a solitary 
female should remain sequestered in a 
house, when supplies and houses were so 
much needed for the German soldiers. 

A satisfactory explanation would doubt- 
less be difficult; nevertheless Eugenia, with 
a blue check gingham apron over her nurs- 
ing one and a cup and saucer and dish towel 
in her hands, opened the front door. 

There was something which she hoped 
looked ^‘old maidy” in this suggestion of 
dishes and tea. Nothing to suggest the 
concealment of a young French officer! 

Outside her door Eugenia encountered a 
stiff German youth in an immaculate uni- 
form, bearing an official letter. The letter 
commanded Eugenia to report to the officer 
in authority in the nearest village. She 
was to explain her presence in the neigh- 
borhood, her occupation, and above all 
offer proof of her nationality. 

Therefore, before setting out the next 
morning Eugenia changed the quarters of 
her patient. There could be little doubt 
that some one would be sent to investigate 
the interior of the little “Farmhouse with 


Recognition 


223 


the Blue Front Door.” One could scarcely 
expect to keep a soldier hidden in the only 
room of any size in the house. 

Fortunately Barbara’s room was the 
most inconspicuous of the four bedrooms. 
Besides, Eugenia had a certain scheme in 
mind which she hoped might help when the 
critical moment arrived. 

Naturally Eugenia had passports and 
certificates to identify herself as an Amer- 
ican Red Cross nurse. But she also took 
with her to the colonel of the German regi- 
ment another paper of a different char- 
acter. However, she did not mean to show 
this before feeling her way very carefully. 
The paper was a check for a large sum of 
money on an American bank in Boston and 
signed with her own name. 

At the improvised office of the German 
colonel, Eugenia told her story as briefly as 
possible. Moreover, she told the exact 
truth in regard to herself in every detail up 
to a certain moment. This was the mo- 
ment when she awakened to consciousness 
after being struck by a German shell. 

There was nothing antagonistic in Eu- 


224 On the French Firing Line 


genia’s manner with the officer. She ex- 
plained to him that the little French farm- 
house had been allotted to the use of the 
four American Red Cross nurses and that 
the other three girls had retreated with the 
French field hospital staff. Then she asked 
that she be allowed to remain in their house 
until such time as she could communicate 
with her friends in America. As she was 
alone it would be impossible to have Ger- 
man soldiers quartered upon her. 

At this moment Eugenia put her hand 
upon the check in her pocket. 

Very frankly she then declared that she 
realized it to be each person’s duty to assist 
with the shelter and feeding of a victorious 
army. But as she was unable to do either 
of these things, would not the colonel accept 
money instead } She trusted that he would 
not be offended by her unusual suggestion, 
for it appeared to her the only just and fair 
thing to do under the circumstances. Fi- 
nally after further discussion and hesitation 
and another careful study of her passports, 
the German officer agreed to do what Eu- 
genia had suggested. However, he insisted, 


Recognition 


225 


as a matter of necessary formality, that 
two German soldiers be sent to her house 
next day on a tour of inspection. When 
they came Eugenia had the courage to 
show them into the very blue bedroom 
where the young French oiRcer lay con- 
cealed. But beforehand, and in spite of 
her Puritan ancestry, she explained that this 
room was her own bedchamber. More- 
over, to prove that she had nothing to 
keep secret she had entirely emptied her 
closet. Her own clothes, beside all those 
that the other three girls had left behind, 
were thrown with pretended carelessness on 
top the very bed where Captain Castaigne 
lay hidden under a pile of bedclothes. 

The young Frenchman was in a stupor 
from fever at the time, so Eugenia con- 
sidered that there could be little risk of his 
either moving or speaking. However, if 
risk there was, she felt compelled to take it. 

The German soldiers made no effort to 
give this special room a thorough investi- 
gation. They merely glanced in, and then, 
like the proverbial ten thousand men of 
King George’s army, marched out again. 


15 


226 On the French Firing Line 


After this Eugenia was troubled no fur- 
ther by intruders from the ranks of the 
Allies’ enemy. Her next visitor was of a 
much more unexpected character. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Out of the Depth 

LL one night Eugenia feared that Cap- 
tain Castaigne would die. 

This was the fourteenth night 
after the beginning of his fever and a crisis 
in the disease. So for twenty-four hours 
she did not have one-half hour of unin- 
terrupted sleep. It was not because the 
young man needed her constant care, for 
indeed he was never conscious of her exist- 
ence. When he called it was always to 
ask for some one else, and yet it was always 
Eugenia who answered. Then for a little 
while at least the patient would seem to be 
satisfied. 

But if at their first accidental meeting 
in Paris the four American Red Cross girls 
had considered Captain Castaigne absurdly 
young for his captain’s commission, what 
must they have thought of him now? To 
Eugenia he appeared like a boy of sixteen, 

( 227 ) 


228 On the French Firing Line 


It is true that he had a tiny dark mous- 
tache, but except for this his face remained 
smooth. Then his nurse had been com- 
pelled to cut oif all his dark hair in order to 
cool his head, and his slender body had 
become wasted and his eyes sunken. In- 
deed, the features, which Eugenia had once 
considered too perfect for a man’s, now 
frequently made her think of a delicate 
cameo, when he lay with his face in profile 
against the pure white of his pillow. 

Watching him on this night, which she 
feared might be his last, Eugenia felt 
unusually moved. 

After all, he must have been a brave and 
capable fellow to have received his present 
rank in the French army while still so young. 
Moreover, there was a possibility that Cap- 
tain Castaigne had more force of character 
than she had ever given him credit for. 
Had he not rebelled against his mother’s 
ideas of rank and dignity, and in spite of 
his devotion to her refused to keep his title 
in a country which was now a republic.^ 
Of course, Eugenia could not believe that 
the young man really had the true demo- 


Out of the Depth 


229 


cratlc spirit in which she so thoroughly 
trusted. Still there was a chance that he 
might not be so futile a character as she 
had first supposed. 

Leaning over to wipe her patient’s face 
with a damp cloth, Eugenia made up her 
mind to one thing. If Captain Castaigne 
died she would go at once to the German 
colonel in command of the French village 
and confess what she had done. Of neces- 
sity she must be punished for her falsehood 
and treachery, but surely she would be per- 
mitted to send for the Countess Amelie at 
the last. The young French officer could 
be of no interest to his enemies after his 
death. 

But where the Countess could be hiding, 
nor whom she could find to send for her, 
Eugenia had not the faintest idea. For 
these past two weeks she had been so en- 
tirely shut away from the outside world. 
Except forrFer one visit to the German 
colonel she had never left the little House 
with the Blue Front Door” since the night 
she first brought her patient into it. Nor 
had Eugenia received a single line from 


230 On the French Firing Line 


any one of the other three Red Cross girls 
to afford her the faintest idea of^what could 
have become of them. But she did not 
worry so much as she might have done at a 
time when she was less occupied. Besides, 
naturally she believed that^the three girls 
were with the French field hospital at some 
point back of the line of the French army’s 
retreat. 

Toward dawn Eugenia knew that the 
hour of greatest danger to her patient would 
arrive. For it is an acknowledged scien- 
tific fact that life is at its lowest ebb with 
the rising and the setting of the sun. 

Therefore, just before this time Eugenia 
left her patient’s bedside and went into the 
room adjoining, which she used for her own 
needs. There she washed her face and 
hands in cold water and, letting down her 
heavy hair, plaited it in two braids. She 
was very tired and yet must prepare herself 
to meet the coming hour with all the 
strength and wisdom she could muster. 

Even as she made her toilet she was 
aware of the feverish muttering of the 
young officer. His stupor had passed 


Out of the Depth 


231 


several days before, but since his nurse 
could not decide whether his weak restless- 
ness and almost incessant crying out were 
not worse symptoms. Certainly they were 
more trying upon her nerves. 

“Ma mere, ma mere,” he was repeating 
his mother’s name over and over again, as 
if he must see her again before his spirit 
could leave his body. 

Eugenia slipped back and for the hun- 
dredth time laid her hand gently on the 
young fellow’s brow. Somehow he must 
be quieted, comforted into thinking his 
mother near him. Then if he never re- 
turned to consciousness he would pass out 
of the world’s alarms with a sense of her 
presence. ^ 

Do you recall that Barbara Meade had 
discovered a wonderful, healing quality 
in the touch of Eugenia’s hands? It is 
true that a few people have this vital, 
health-giving quality in their hands, which 
is not true of others. 

Anyhow, Eugenia’s patient grew quieter, 
although he still murmured a broken word 
now and then. He was strangely pathetic, 


232 On the French Firing Line 


because, however much he might move his 
arms and the upper part of his body, his 
legs remained lifeless. For now and then 
when he had endeavored to change his 
position the pain had been so great as to 
pierce through his stupor. 

‘^Mon fils, mon fils,” Eugenia whispered 
several times. It was all the French she 
dared permit herself to speak, and yet the 
simple words ‘‘my son,” even spoken by a 
New England old maid, carried their magic. 

Yet Eugenia was looking little like an old 
maid as she leaned over the French boy — 
and he was scarcely more than a boy. She 
wore the violet wrapper, and as she kneeled 
her long dark braids of hair lay upon the 
floor. She too had grown thin and white 
from her two weeks’ vigil of nursing, cook- 
ing, taking entire charge of her patient, 
herself and the little house. Neverthe” 
less, Eugenia’s face had for some reason 
softened, perhaps because she was too 
weary and too selfless in her devotion to 
her patient to feel superior to any earthly 
thing. At this moment her eyes were both 
sad and hopeful, while her lashes looked 


Out of the Depth 


233 


longer and darker than usual against the 
pallor of her cheeks. 

Finally Captain Castaigne moved away 
from the soft pressure of his nurse’s hands. 
As he moved with more strength than Eu- 
genia believed him to possess, for .the next 
instant she watched him even more closely. 

He was muttering a number of confused 
phrases, now and then what sounded like 
a command to his soldiers. Then all at 
once he stopped and laughed a little fool- 
ishly. 

‘‘Eugenia Peabody,” he pronounced the 
words distinctly, although with a French 
accent which made the name more attract- 
ive than it ever had before. “Eugenie 
Paybode” was the way it sounded to its 
possessor. 

Eugenia stared more closely. Could 
Captain Castaigne know her once again? 
Since the first night after his injury he never 
seemed to have been aware of her identity. 

A further glance into his eyes showed 
this was not true. There was no sign of 
intelligence there, only vagueness and a 
confused groping in the dark. 


234 On the French Firing Line 


“Mademoiselle Paybode, she is what 
you call in English ‘an old maid.’” 

Then the young officer laughed boyishly, 
as if he and a friend had been discussing a 
new acquaintance and found the subject 
amusing. 

Eugenia flushed. It was absurd, but for 
the moment she felt hurt and angry. Few 
of us like to be the subject of a joke and 
Eugenia was not gifted with much sense of 
humor. But a little later she had the grace 
to be ashamed of herself. However she 
might dislike the young Frenchman whom 
she had been nursing so faithfully, she must 
remember that he had unfailing good man- 
ners. Their one unfortunate meeting had 
been due to a mistake on his part. After- 
wards he had done all that he could to 
make amends. Certainly he would be the 
last person to be rude to her under the 
present circumstances if he had known 
what he was saying! Moreover, the min- 
ute after he continued talking at random 
upon subjects which had no possible con- 
nection. 

Soon after, glancing at her watch, Eu- 


Out of the Depth 


235 


genia got up and crossed the room. The 
next instant she returned in order to take 
her patient’s temperature. His fever was 
not so high, but then his pulse and heart 
seemed to be growing dangerously weaker. 
Giving him the necessary stimulant, she 
again stood by his bedside, watching and 
waiting. 

Captain Castaigne was no longer talking 
in his delirium. He had grown quieter and 
was staring, yet with an unseeing expres- 
sion, at the ceiling overhead. At this mo- 
ment Eugenia discovered that the dawn had 
come at last. A shaft of yellow light had 
entered the high window and shone across 
the wounded officer’s face. It gave him 
such a curiously transfigured look that for 
an instant Eugenia was frightened. But che 
next, realizing what had occurred, she 
walked across to the window and stood 
looking out at the country. 

The morning wind blew across her face. 
The dawn was a cold December one and 
yet the air was grateful. A little later 
Duke came and thrust his great head into 
Eugenia’s hand. Until this moment he had 


236 On the French Firing Line 


not left his place by his master’s bedside 
since twilight the day before. But now he 
too seemed to feel that there was nothing 
more love or vigilance could do. One must 
simply wait. 

The landscape was particularly lovely 
this morning, Eugenia thought. A white 
frost lay upon the meadows and trees like a 
veil, and one could not see the devastation 
that the recent fighting must have brought 
upon the countryside. Eugenia had the 
right to feel rather like a prisoner, and yet 
she was not at this time conscious of her- 
self. She was wondering how the Countess 
Amelie could live when she learned that her 
^ only son had fallen a victim to the enemy 
who had despoiled her land and captured 
her home. She was an old woman and this 
would be too full a measure of sorrow. 

Row long Eugenia stood at the window 
she did not know. It could scarcely have 
been more than a few moments, yet when 
she turned around she was not aware of 
what had influenced her. Perhaps it was 
Duke’s desertion, for once more he had 
marched over to his master’s side. Here, 


Out of the Depth 


237 


he stood sentinel with his eyes fixed on 
the young captain’s face. He no longer 
crouched upon the floor as he had been 
doing for the past twelve hours. 

Straightway Eugenia experienced a sud- 
den rushing of warm blood to her own 
cheeks and a flooding sense of happiness 
and warmth. 

For Captain Castaigne was looking at her 
gravely, yet with entire recognition. 

‘H have come back to fight once more for 
France because of you,” he whispered. 
Then, in spite of his exhaustion, he tried 
gallantly to lift Eugenia’s fingers to his 
lips. But finding himself too weak, he 
simply lay still and smiled at her. 

Utterly ridiculous in a self-possessed per- 
son like Eugenia! But because she felt a 
sudden overpowering inclination to burst 
into tears of relief at her patient’s safety, 
she frowned upon him sternly instead. 

‘‘You are not to stir or speak until I re- 
turn,” she announced severely, and then 
deliberately left the room. Of course, she 
intended to get some simple nourishment 
for the young officer at once, but this was 


238 On the French Firing Line 


not the important reason for her with- 
drawal. Certainly Eugenia did not so far 
intend to forget her dignity as a nurse as to 
show emotion! 

At about noon on the same day Eugenia 
was cheerfully working downstairs in the 
little French kitchen, while Captain Cas- 
taigne was sleeping quietly upstairs with 
the door open so that she could hear his 
faintest move. 

For the kitchen had to be seriously con- 
sidered. The supply of food necessary for 
an invalid was growing dangerously low in 
their larder, and for the next few weeks the 
wounded soldier must have proper nutri- 
ment. After an hour’s investigation Euge- 
nia decided that she must go to the village 
and see what could be done. It would be 
difficult to leave her patient alone, but his 
life was no longer in danger. Time would 
bring healing, if nothing of an unexpected 
nature occurred. 

Then Eugenia heard a gentle tapping at 
her kitchen door. It was much the same 
noise that Frangois had been accustomed to 
make on his daily visits with supplies from 


Out of the Depth 


239 


the chateau. For a moment Eugenia hoped 
that Frangois might have come unexpect- 
edly to their aid. But on opening the door, 
she found a wholly unexpected visitor. 

A young girl of about sixteen stood out- 
side. At first Eugenia did not recognize 
her. Then she saw that she wore a torn 
skirt and a little scarlet cap and that she was 
singularly pretty and graceful. 

Like a flash a picture came before her; 
it was the figure of a little girl dancing be- 
fore a group of French soldiers. What was 
the name Barbara had afterwards called 
her, the name of some character in an old 
French romance? 

^^Nicolete,” Eugenia said suddenly. And 
drawing the girl inside the little kitchen, 
she carefully closed the outside door. 


CHAPTER XIX 


Eugenia 


HIS year in the southern portion of 



France it was March, not May, that 


came singing over the land. The 
days were soft and serene with the warmth 
and sunshine of late spring. 

In front of the Chateau d’Amelle a pea- 
cock walked slowly across the lawn, spread- 
ing his tail and then arching his neck In an 
effort to behold his own grandeur. Near 
him two girls were walking up and down* 
with a young man dressed in the uniform of 
a British officer. Not far away in a some- 
what neglected garden a French peasant 
woman was laying a cloth on a wooden 
table and setting out cups and saucers of 
fine old china. It was self-evident that an 
afternoon meal of some kind was In prep- 
aration and that the two girls and young 
man were waiting for it to be made ready, 
and perhaps for other guests as well. 


( 240 ) 


Eugenia 


241 


This was all taking place in the very 
neighborhood which a few months before 
had been overrun by the German troops 
after the retreat of the French army. But 
the French had returned unto their own 
again, at least in this particular vicinity 
where the Chateau d’Amelie had stood for 
several centuries. Six weeks after their 
retreat before the superior forces of the 
German enemy, the French had retaken 
their deserted trenches, after driving the 
enemy out of the neighborhood. More than 
this, they had afterwards forced the Ger- 
mans to retire a quarter of a mile further 
back beyond the borders of Alsace-Lor- 
raine. 

Therefore happiness, or at least a degree 
of it, reigned once more in this portion of 
France, and in no place perhaps was there 
a fuller share than in the Chateau d’Amelie. 

‘‘What do you suppose has become of 
Captain Castaigne.^ He promised to join 
us at four o’clock,” one of the girls Inquired 
carelessly. 

Before her question could be answered a 
wheeled chair appeared at one side of the 


16 


242 On the French Firing Line 


garden with a young man seated in it. His 
face and figure suggested a semi-invalid, 
but his costume revealed extreme care and 
elegance. Moreover, his expression was 
radiant. 

^‘Mes amis, you are more than welcome,” 
he cried, speaking a rather absurd mixture 
of French and English. Then turning to 
the little old man at the back of his chair he 
urged him to hurry, until the chair, its driver 
and rider, fairly rollicked over the uneven 
lawn. 

There Captain Castaigne gravely shook 
hands with his guests, Nona Davis and 
Barbara Meade, who had just come to the 
chateau from the little ‘‘Farmhouse with 
the Blue Front Door.” Afterwards he 
smiled at his friend Lieutenant Robert 
Hume, who was at present a visitor in his 
house. 

“Mother will be here in a moment,” he 
explained. “She has asked me to beg her 
adored American girl friends to wait a few 
moments until she is able to be with them. 
The truth is, Madame la Comtesse is at 
present engaged in making petit gateaux — 


Eugenia 


243 


little cakes, I believe you say. She would 
not trust the peasant Emma with so deli- 
cate a commission. But where is Made- 
moiselle Paybode? Surely she has not for- 
gotten her promise!” 

Captain Castaigne’s face had suddenly 
changed; he seemed to be both annoyed 
and disappointed. So as usual Barbara 
spoke impulsively without thinking before- 
hand. 

‘‘Oh, Eugenia is so tiresome!” she began 
with a little stamp of her foot. “Nona 
and I thought all along up until the very 
last minute that she was coming with us 
this afternoon. Then she insisted that she 
had a slight headache and had best rest and 
read so it would not grow worse. The 
truth is, I don’t believe she wanted to 
come. Besides, she had the audacity to 
announce that she thought we would have 
a better time without her.” 

Then Barbara ceased her confession, 
conscious that Nona was frowning upon 
her and that it was scarcely good manners 
to have spoken so freely. When would 
she ever get over her dreadful western 
candor? 


244 On the French Firing Line 


‘‘I am sure Barbara is mistaken in at 
least a portion of her tirade,” Nona inter- 
rupted. ‘‘Eugenia did have a headache 
or else she could not have failed to wish to 
spend the afternoon with Madame Cas- 
taigne. Really, I don’t think Eugenia is 
very well, although she will not admit it. 
But since we came back to the farmhouse 
she has never been just the same. She 
does not do half such hard nursing as she 
once did and yet she is often tired and 

unlike herself. I expect ” Then Nona 

stopped talking and laughed, for she had 
discovered Barbara smiling upon her with 
wicked satisfaction. Having broken into 
the conversation to stem the flood of Bar- 
bara’s tactlessness, she had now plunged 
in even deeper than her friend. 

There was no one, however, to save her 
from the results of her stupidity, for Henri 
Castaigne had flushed and looked miser- 
ably uncomfortable as soon as she spoke. 

“There is small wonder that Miss Pay- 
bode is not so strong as she once was. 
When I think of all that she went through 
in those miserable weeks with me, I can- 


Eugenia 


245 


not see how she endured it. It must have 
killed any one else. Then there was the 
secrecy and the long concealment even 
when I had sufficiently recovered to have 
been made a prisoner by the enemy. Such 
strength, such courage! Mon Dieu, how 
shall I ever repay her.^’’ 

The young French officer looked so un- 
necessarily tragic that to save the situa- 
tion his three friends laughed. 

^‘Oh, goodness, you don’t have to repay 
Eugenia! I am sure she really loved tak- 
ing care of you,” Barbara interposed. ‘^Be- 
sides, I expect she bullied you abominably. 
She adores bossing people. But there is 
my Countess, I know she wishes to speak 
to me first, since I’m sure she likes me 
best. Au revoir.^^ And Barbara ran off in 
the direction of the garden, where the figure 
of the Countess Amelie had just appeared, 
leaving her three companions to follow. 

Nona then walked along by one side of 
Captain Castaigne’s chair, with Lieutenant 
Hume on the other, while old Francois 
pushed nobly in the rear. 

The French officer made no effort to hide 


246 On the French Firing Line 


his annoyance at Barbara’s frankness. He 
was still weak and sometimes a little queru- 
lous after his long illness. 

‘‘Miss Meade does not understand, she 
does not appreciate Miss Paybode,” he 
began. “Even my mother, although she is 
on her knees to my friend because of her 
great kindness to me, even she cannot see 
all that Eugenie has been, all that she 
is ” 

This appeared to be a conversation of 
unfinished sentences, of things better left 
unsaid, for Captain Castaigne now looked 
as if he would give a great deal to have 
kept his last remark to himself. 

However, Nona Davis had the exquisite 
tact of many southern girls and apparently 
had heard only the first part of her host’s 
speech. ^ 

“Oh, you must not misunderstand Bar- 
bara and Eugenia,” she explained. “Most 
of the time they disagree on every subject. 
But the truth is they are really tremen- 
dously fond of each other. Why, now that 
Mildred Thornton is in Paris with her 
brother Dick, I feel quite left out. Bar- 


Eugenia 


247 


bara used to weep for Eugenia every night 
after we made our escape with your mother 
and Francois through the passage under 
the chateau. You see when we learned 
that she was not with Mildred, but had 
been left behind, naturally we supposed 
that something dreadful had happened to 
her. And of course Barbara understood 
how self-sacrificing Eugenia always is and 
feared she had given her life for some one 
else. If you only knew how happy we all 
were when we finally learned that you were 
both alive and that Eugenia was caring for 
you!” 

“But how did you hear?” Lieutenant 
Hume demanded. The little party had 
now almost reached the garden where the 
table was spread for their entertainment, 
so there was but little time for Nona’s 
story. 

“Oh, we heard through a little French 
girl, Nicolete. You see, she came to the 
farmhouse one day to see Eugenia, and 
after they had talked a while Eugenia dis- 
covered that she was a friend of Captain 
Castaigne’s. Then she told her that he 


248 On the French Firing Line 


was in hiding. After that Nicolete used 
to come every day and bring supplies and 
seemed devoted to Eugenia. Well, you 
remember Madame told you how Francois 
finally made his way back to this neighbor- 
hood to try and find out what had become 
of Captain Castaigne. You see the Count- 
ess was in despair, as naturally we all 
believed that Captain Castaigne had been 
killed or taken prisoner, but Frangois would 
not give up. He was unkindly treated by 
the Germans when he first came home, 
but afterwards they allowed him to work 
for them. Then of course he saw Nicolete 
and she told him what had happened. So 
we actually knew where Eugenia and Cap- 
tain Castaigne were before we were able 
to get back here. But you can imagine 
how anxious we used to feel for fear they 
would be discovered and something dread- 
ful done to both of them!” 

‘Ht is a perfectly ripping story,” Lieu- 
tenant Hume answered convincingly. But 
he added nothing more, as Madame Cas- 
taigne at this moment came forward to 
greet Nona. Actually the old French lady 


Eugenia 


249 


put both her hands on Nona’s cheeks and 
kissed her daintily on the lips. For the 
two young American girls had become her 
devoted friends and admirers during the 
weeks they spent together after their escape 
from the chateau. 

An hour later they were still sitting talk- 
ing cheerfully together in the old French 
garden. Only their host had disappeared. 
Captain Castaigne had asked to be excused, 
and as he was still an invalid no one thought 
seriously of his departure. Presumably he 
had retired to his own apartments to rest. 
But the young French officer had not felt 
like going indoors, although he was not 
in the mood for further conversation. As 
it was still early in the afternoon he had 
asked Francois to wheel his chair down 
into the woods which lay between the 
chateau and the little “Farmhouse with 
the Blue Front Door.” 


CHAPTER XX 


The Pool of Truth 

HERE by the pool on a log with a 



book in her lap sat Eugenia. She 


was not reading, however, although 
her book lay open. At the sound of 
Captain Castaigne’s chair approaching she 
looked toward him. 

The young man’s expression was severe 
on this occasion, not Eugenia’s. 

am sorry to intrude upon you,” he 
began stiffly. ‘‘Your friends told me that 
you were suffering from a headache; natu- 
rally I did not expect to find you here.” 

In response Eugenia smiled good-na- 
turedly, just as one might to a fretful 
child. She had gotten up at once and now 
came forward and took the young man’s 
hand. 

“I did have a headache. Captain Cas- 
taigne. I am too good a Puritan to have 
told a complete story. But while I did not 


( 250 ) 


The Pool of Truth 


251 


feel well enough to see and talk to a num- 
ber of persons, I did not desire to go to 
bed, where Barbara was pleased to send me 
by way of punishment. Besides, I knew 
your mother would prefer to have the two 
girls to herself. I really think she misses 
them now that they can see so little of each 
other. But why talk about me.^ You are 
stronger every day, aren’t you ? Can’t 
you walk with your crutches if Francois 
is near? Come, won’t you try now? I 
am sure I can catch you if you are too much 
for Francois.” 

Two spots of angry color appeared in 
Captain Castaigne’s cheeks. 

am through with your support. Miss 
Paybode,” he returned curtly. ^^When 
I choose to walk I prefer not to be held up 
by a woman.” 

‘‘Oh,” Eugenia answered, and stared at 
her former patient helplessly. What had 
she said or done to make him so angry? 

But the next instant the young officer 
had taken her hand and in French fashion 
touched it with his lips. 

“Forgive me,” he said, “I am impossible. 


252 On the French Firing Line 


This, after I depended on you so long for 
every care. If you will be so good, I think 
I should like to sit there on the log where 
you were sitting.’’ 

During his illness Eugenia had grown 
so accustomed to these swift changes of 
mood in her patient that she paid no 
especial attention to this one. Instead she 
helped him out of his chair and kept at his 
side- while he hobbled over to the log she 
had just' deserted. 

But when she stood above him looking 
down upon him with pride and satisfaction 
over his achievement he grew angry again. 

‘‘If you cannot sit beside me I have no 
idea of taking your place,” he protested. 

The next instant Eugenia sank meekly 
down. It rather amused her to have Cap- 
tain Castaigne treat her in this fashion. 

Just before them was the small lake 
which Nona and Barbara had discovered 
the first morning after their arrival at the 
farmhouse. It was shadowy now with the 
coming of evening, but still the water was 
coolly clear. Its beauty soothed one to 
silence. 


The Pool of Truth 


253 


It was Eugenia who spoke first. 

‘‘I am glad to have this moment here 
with you, Captain Castaigne,” she began, 
with a return to her former manner. ^‘Be- 
cause I wish to tell you and have you ex- 
plain to your mother that Nona and Bar- 
bara and I may be leaving this part of the 
country in a little while. The truth is, our 
services as nurses are not needed here as 
they were some months ago. There is 
little fighting going on and several new 
French nurses came down from Paris the 
other day. Besides this, Mrs. Thornton 
and Judge Thornton have grown very ner- 
vous and unhappy over Mildred, as well as 
the rest of us, in the last few weeks. They 
have both written to urge me to persuade 
the other girls to join me and go into Bel- 
gium to help with the relief work there. 
You are almost well now, so I shall be able 
to say good-by with much greater satis- 
faction.” 

This last speech Eugenia made in a 
gracious tone and yet her companion re- 
ceived it ungraciously. And this in spite 
of the fact that his manner was usually 
charming. 


254 On the French Firing Line 


‘‘There is no time when you would not 
say good-by to me with satisfaction, Miss 
Paybode,’’ he returned. “However, if I 
am spared perhaps I may some day show 
my appreciation of your great kindness. 
I have written my colonel to say that I 
shall be able to rejoin my command in 
another week or ten days. I have wasted 
much valuable time with two illnesses. 
Perhaps the third may be my lucky one!’’ 
he finished, casting his dark eyes upward 
with dramatic intensity. 

In reply Eugenia actually patted his 
knee in a comforting, motherly fashion. 

“Don’t be absurd. You cannot return 
to your command for two or three months 
at least,” she admonished. 

“Two or three weeks shall be the limit 
to my patience,” her companion repeated, 
still talking like a sulky boy. 

Eugenia frowned. “I shall speak to 
your mother. She will never allow it.” 
Again her manner was that of a New Eng- 
land school teacher. Nevertheless Cap- 
tain Castaigne did not smile. Yet he 
seemed to have forgotten his age and dig- 


The Pool of Truth 


255 


nity as well as rank in the army, for you 
see he had been a good many weeks under 
Eugenia’s discipline. 

“The day you go to Belgium I shall 
return to my post,” he muttered. 

Eugenia would like to have shaken him. 
Had he been in the little “Farmhouse with 
the Blue Front Door,” she would simply 
have gotten up at this instant and left her 
patient until he had learned to behave 
himself. But at present the circumstances 
were different, and besides she might not 
have a chance to talk to him again. So 
somehow he must be made to behave 
sensibly. 

“You will do no such thing. You owe 
more than that to me,” Eugenia protested 
unexpectedly. A few moments before she 
would not have believed that any earthly 
thing could have forced her to mention, 
either to Captain Castaigne or to any one 
else, the sacrifices which she had made for 
him. But now she had spoken deliber- 
ately and meaning exactly what she said. 

Nevertheless the young French officer 
did not answer immediately. 


256 On the French Firing Line 


^‘Eugenie,” he said finally, and the queru- 
lous, boyish note in his voice had quite 
gone, ‘‘you must listen to me. I have 
been talking like a child, but I am scarcely 
surprised at myself, since you have always 
insisted upon treating me as scarcely more 
than a child. I have borne with it because 
I have been ill and you have known me 
only in that condition. But, Eugenie, I 
will endure it no longer.” 

The young man’s voice held a quietly 
determined quality. He was perfectly 
courteous and yet his listener understood 
at this instant' 'why he was considered one 
of the most forceful as well as one of the 
most popular of the younger officers in the 
French service. 

Nevertheless Eugenia scarcely knew how 
or what to reply. 

“I am so sorry. Captain Castaigne,” she 
answered. “I have not intended to fail in 
respect to you. But perhaps I have unin- 
tentionally presumed on your long weak- 
ness and dependence upon me.” 

And this from Eugenia! Moreover, her 
face had flushed and she could not lift her 


The Pool of Truth 


257 


lids because of the tears in her eyes. Yet 
she was not really angry with Captain 
Castaigne. 

The next time he spoke his voice was 
once more gentle and he even managed 
to smile. 

‘^You know that is not what I mean 
in the least. It is absurd of you to 
talk of showing proper respect to me, 
Eugenie, as if I were your commanding 
officer. Surely you understand that when 
a man cares for a woman as I do for you, 
there is but one thing possible between 
them. They must love e?xh other fully 
and equally. I know you have nothing 
but a kindly feeling for me, but you shall 
not go away, when I may never see you 
again, without hearing the truth.’ 

Still Eugenia did not understand ! Never- 
theless her face grew pale instead of flushed 
and her dark eyes gazed into her com- 
panion's almost curiously. 

Yet the next moment, when Captain 
Castaigne touched her hand with infinite 
gentleness and respect, she drew it coldly 
away from him. 




17 


258 On the French Firing Line 


quite understand your gratitude, Cap- 
tain Castaigne. But please appreciate the 
fact that it is unnecessary for you to go this 
far to express your obligation. I have 
only done for you what I would have done 
for any one in the world under the same 
circumstances.’’ 

am entirely aware of that fact,” the 
young officer answered curtly. 

Then he and Eugenia both maintained 
a dignified silence for the space of sixty 
seconds. 

By this time the girl rose up. 

‘‘This is our good-by, perhaps. We 
may not see each other alone again. You 
must forgive me if I seem to be cold and 
unfeeling. Of course, I should have cared 
for any one just as I cared for you. But 
I should not have been so glad to have been 
given the opportunity had my patient been 
any other person.” Eugenia was trying 
her best to cast aside the cold and formal 
manner which had made her misunderstood 
all the days of her life. In her earnestness 
somehow she looked younger and humbler 
than usual. Indeed, she was a very fair 


The Pool of Truth 


259 


and lovely woman standing there with her 
hands clasped before her. Her eyes were 
shining with the sincerity of her emotion, 
while her attitude expressed a strange 
mixture of dignity and appeal, 

‘‘When we first met each other, Captain 
Castaigne, I confess I had a wrong idea of 
you. Now I feel that I could have rendered 
France no greater service than to have 
saved your life. Since I came abroad to 
nurse in order to help the little I am able, 
perhaps my coming has not been in vain. 
Good-by.’^ 

She was moving away, when the young 
officer reached out and took hold of her 
skirt. 

“Please don’t go for another moment,” 
he pleaded. “Of course I understand that 
so noble a woman cannot love a man who 
has so little to offer as I have. Why, in 
spite of all our lands, my mother and I are 
little more than paupers! And if I am 
spared when this war is over, perhaps I 
shall always be lame.” 

The girl was standing looking down at 
the young fellow whose head was slightly 


260 On the French Firing Line 


bowed, when instinctively she laid her firm, 
beautiful hand on his head with uncon- 
scious sympathy and tenderness. She had 
done the same thing so many times before 
during his illness. But Eugenia’s hand 
now trembled a little, for she was slowly 
beginning to appreciate what Captain Cas- 
taigne had been trying to say to her. 

Curious, for Eugenia to think first that 
she had never received a proposal before 
in her life, or she might have known better 
how to receive it. Then her next sensa- 
tion was an odd combination of gratitude 
and protest. 

“I have been very stupid. Captain Cas- 
taigne, and you have been very good,” 
she answered. ^‘But even if you believe 
what you have just said to me, and of 
course I know that you would not deceive 
me, you yourself must realize that nothing 
but friendship can ever exist between us. 
I am several years older than you, and I 
have no delusions about my own attrac- 
tions. You are young and brilliant, but 
then I need^not enumerate your gifts,” the 
girl added, smiling with a kind of gentle 


The Pool of Truth 


261 


humorousness she had never possessed be- 
fore. ‘‘All this is merely gratitude you feel 
toward me, and a little affection because of 
my care of you. Six months from now I 
shall be only a memory.” 

“Then you do not love me?” Captain 
Castaigne inquired bluntly. He it was who 
had now cast aside all his soft graciousness 
of manner, the delicate evasions of the di- 
rect truth, that sometimes constitute what 
is known as a charming manner. It was 
Eugenia who, in spite of her Puritan faith 
and training, was refusing to meet the 
issue fairly. 

She hesitated because the truth over- 
whelmed her. The idea of caring for 
Captain Castaigne except as a friend had 
never for a single instant before occurred 
to her. Of course, he had filled her life and 
thoughts for many weeks, but that was 
because of the peculiar situation into which 
they had been forced by circumstances. 
Moreover, the thought of their never meet- 
ing again had given her a sense of loss and 
emptiness. Yet Eugenia stuck by her 
colors gallantly. 


262 On the French Firing Line 


“That is not the important question, 
Captain Castaigne, and I cannot answer 
you. For always there would remain an 
impossible gulf between us. There is your 
position, your mother’s disappointment, 
our different ways of looking at life. Why, 
you would soon become dreadfully ashamed 
of a New England old maid endeavoring to 
turn herself into a charming young wife.” 

Eugenia glanced into the little pool of 
water near by, shadowed by the trees. 
“Nona has been calling this tiny lake 
‘The Pool of Melisande,’ Captain Cas- 
taigne, but to me it is a mirror of truth, 
in which I can see myself only too plainly. 
It is growing late and you must not be 
out in the cold air. Please let me call 
Francois and have him take you home.” 

Receiving no reply but a quiet look of 
determination, Eugenia summoned the old 
man. Then she assisted Francois to get the 
young officer back into his wheeled chair 
and afterwards stood watching them until 
they had both disappeared. 

Then, as it was almost twilight, Eugenia 
turned and began to walk slowly toward 


The Pool of Truth 


263 


the little French farmhouse. She realized 
that she had just deliberately turned her 
back upon the fairest opportunity life 
might ever offer her. Nevertheless, both 
her conscience and her brain approved her 
action. 

‘‘There is only one thing which I might 
have confided and did not,” Eugenia mur- 
mured reflectively. “Perhaps I should 
have explained that it would not matter in 
the least that Henri and his mother have 
no money. I have more than enough for 
us all.” Then as she drew nearer home: 
“Never mind. Captain Castaigne will soon 
have forgotten what he has just said to me. 
But perhaps it is just as well that we are 
soon to go into Belgium to help with the 
Red Cross work there, for I may not find 
it quite so easy to forget.” 

When she reached home it was dark. 
But as the other girls had not yet returned 
from the chateau, Eugenia went upstairs 
to her own room without making a light. 
There she flung herself down upon the bed, 
remembering gratefully that because she 
had a headache, she might reasonably be 


264 On the French Firing Line 


allowed to spend the evening alone. Then 
Barbara would have no chance to ask 
questions. 

The third volume in the American Girls’ 
Red Cross series is to be known as “The 
Red Cross Girls in Belgium.” In this story 
the four girls will be at work in an even 
more tragically interesting land. Here 
their adventures and their romances will 
continue and one of the girls at least shall 
find what is at once the end and the begin- 
ning of a girl’s career. 

The book will also deal with conditions 
in Belgium at the present time and show 
how the people of the United States have 
brought aid and relief to a suffering nation. 




7 0 5 


1 



1 











— 1 * ■' ^4\S '' ' ' \ / '" ' ' ' 

'.,:^» ■*., ...R,. '1 , , v*,,V, ',■ ’•!• »r V/ 

''i ^ '‘f-’ ' V,A’..''' ' ■,= f. 












W/pi, “t •'v'^ " , 


V 


» /^'i, Qp . -"‘ > 



<1 ^ 0 

>• 

^ ^N ,, ^ ^ .is^ rO C* ^ 

■ > .0' ^''* 0 ^ 

-*^' ' A > a s V ., 

° 'j- 

■i^ -Si. 




a\ . 0 0 . -7-* *-fl -, 

■i 'f' ‘»'“r-sSNv ^ '' 0^ 

^ v?* ' ‘^o r»^ 

A ^'^ /^ _ AVTvW .fr 1 ^ * 



^ O % >0 t 

9. 


* 4 'y * 

- xV •^<. 


0 s 


V 


'.¥11^.’ .K'^" 

ov - ' tr< 2J ^ 

0^ ^ ■^. ,A^ . 


.V </ 


aX s 

r ^ 


<5 




" ^ 0 S O • ,. ^ 0 ^ 8 

O'’ ^ ® /■ c* 

V. C.^ rIv\VS§\///^ ® ^ r 


^ \ C>V " i, 

I \ \ V ^ 

4 \ S ’^ ^ / 

<V* * *> 



c^xO ^ n ^ V ' / A * S ^ \' 

' ' a' <»''"» -^b o"^ s* 

.w- r '. o' 

^ -K^ ' 

ctt, .^ii.'\^ V - ^ ^ ^ 

^ 8 1 \ ■" \V ^ 




fi^ ^ ^ r\J f. • f 

• '^ -. S 0 ’ oO C> . 

> ^ o^ ^ ^ ^ '^c^ 

.-A' ■> o t~ « ^ 




^ •QV 

. ■* .A * s '' • xO^ ^ 0 * X .A. 

' - 0 '^ x^-" " .'xX^ 

; '^o o'" »' ■< V.. = 

1> 




bi x°-x. 



/>_ - O ==» ‘-f/^ \ 


'‘^ ^ ^r ^ <V ^ ^ * CN^ 

A'...,, ■%. =»» 

o 



0 -0^ • 
^ " ,0^ » ' *"’ 
•i, .'X^ 


: %. ^.yi\'^\' -v --x • , 

^ ^ -N .V ^ ‘ V O / t 

tO ^ / ^ ^ ^ ^ 0 <1 »w \ ' ^ f it ix ^ 

..o'^ -u ./ .< °1, % 

1 wm ^ 

I ' * s • • r ^ 

•ft •>t- C.'-- <sr 

<1^ _ , , ° ■o'> \> . 

^ c ^ ^ V'1% 



^ 'p 

'P *< «: 

=■ ^>^^ 

^ = .0 O,. 

AN'>^ V ^ 

<» C' /- 

O' . ■« <* 0 ^ C~ V 

.• <1- 



A-^' - ;s>^ 


as 



^ ^V* 


' ." .A 1 

^ ' r> V- 

A <^0 " '• ♦ ‘o (.y ^ 



c S aO <A « * 

o.> « ' ® -f 


*>^ V 

o 0 







^^4* 1 


\ 


0 o 


; t > - • *’^v,- : f * •' ■ f = ^ ‘ ' ^^^ ’i*; '! ' » !> *. '' !*•..*'• ■’- •'“. i/‘* ‘'i 


'• V “ I T ! 'i- * * • j. 1 t 5 ■ ■ 1 

, » \f. '7./ V.- ,r ■« •- 

r % » < • * t ‘ i • 1 . 4 ■ , * » 4 % 1 ‘ 

A\ 1 ; J 'l*!- i'. :. . . . •_ , J* *: .- 

• /, ,} ■: <’>•* "'s’* . ' •’; ■- ‘ ^ ‘ • 'S ’ s 


■ *<4 •' • 

..:S . /ir* 

. • ■• ' 2 - -. v-: 

• 5. \ T,’ •.. ■ 

‘ i ' i ' Y ' “ 

*; t ’ ’» » "• 

. N.- . ^ * . ■ * ■] ;■■ ■ 

,-• - ; *» 1 1- .■ - . f. •. . 


;.: i;><; i= t. 

a - 1 & > ^ t V c I . » •" C - > * . . - i - • 

^ ?• *• * ' '. • ♦ 
,.4 U- It |.« I r. »'■ »»*•*• t ' ' » •* 

• -•-*'.> ,:. • . ..* 4 a .- IP- I 1 ! *■ » 


,.» ^^ It |.« t f. »'■ »»* * * t 

i: i ; r* V : ' ^ . 

^ ■ * *. i.‘. •* » »* *t . • * n • 1 " - 't '■ * I ■ t . # . r’ k .' 4 •*^ ‘ •- ' 4 ‘ ' ' 

{■ s '^' * ■ • , •' j i ’, 2 *4 ■• r :-*i - ^ ‘ ^ 4 / , * . .• ,5 , . 

• rs ■ ,v ..* ./,p o; .4’*4 . ; ; .... ? ■ , 

v;' V' ■ 

.* . t. J» . t ^ \ i. *«•*•'• •■ ^ * V • 4 ’ ' ^ ; A ■» •' e ■ 

r ..'.j k.i : 

.4 '.**-*•• i ‘J * , .‘ 4 ‘ i «• •. .4* I .* • *: •• V ' 1 • s ■ C ■ * ' ^ ■» 

4 4 • • • • • 4 • * >*-%••• r •• ' ^ i »• I ^ / 

‘s/^^ "■ ■'*4 ^ 

-4 w ,v.^; i . , ./ • . ..t, * ^. 

4.:*’ i; . 

.4 ■V^'vv'v :■■'>■ -i' '■^.=- 

, ;' n;' ^ • 

>■ .«t-’ I” 4^ \ 5= \ := . *. - •. ' ;• V » •' ■ ' 


>r>i »^ >=!,f ■-:?■ 

• '. » •' I'*#' ^\/jk,* *••* !• * '] 

, «.' 't '.' \ i 1 •' ’■ * .4 *. * '. /-.*'••»* S •*»*<'*’■ ‘ 

• • I » - k ^ . ‘ ••»».* i i j • ' • » ' ‘ . ' . 


. - ‘ t » 

> ? 


• » • • _ 

I « 4 »• • 

t k ) • • * 

I • • <- ' ^ * • 

I ' ♦ ’ » I 


.j ;>w jj. ■■"} ; ! ■ ; 'I: V 

rr.‘ 4-. I; ,■ Si ‘i.‘ •».♦';.* ;/'•• * »■; r;.* ; » ,s ^ ' 

4;.‘ l4>t 4^-?, i;\ \ \r.cr) r .''S; -' N ’ • ‘ 


. z. '■■ t I »• I » «' ■ ' 

s .. ,1 I • k : * ■ 


i ' » * !■*'■■ 

»VT S S S ... 

, / , 4 t : . . » ., 


‘ ^ I - I « I * ‘ 4 


,- 'k -S -'S .'■ > ■ . ’ ‘ Y 
4 •■■'\, ‘. * • -* *= * - 

, .1 ««■ ' «. i — t S !. » ,• 

• ! 1 ^ ' 
I . ! ' • ' ’i 4* • ‘ 

V » » 

»>«.•••- • 4 • • • . t 


; = 'vv’.;v V VU'..; 

4. 5V ,« V> t. . i . i \ i ■ ■ » 4 / :r , i \ 

!; '-s '■•>•“ ,> ■' '> ‘ . 

■f - - S t^S 4 , .’ 4 1 / 1 ' j * • i * ’ ■ 

».* r- < • I ‘ ' »t, - - ■ ■;, I* . -■ “. » : ■ . * V *, 

‘^'•v • . ‘s:v I*.*' 

‘ * ■ T . J ‘ M - % . f \ ■ - • • - • 


> /-..S . >ii i •*’- > V *1 'S ’ - ' ’ »■ ■■”■'• 

5 f *. * 4 / * " 4 ' * \ ^ f M f i * ; . J • I > . _ ^ - 

..♦> i -'S :■!/•• . -..‘..‘S . .= 

■; ^ 1. ■ • :s 

I * = S ' 'i - ■' * * ■' V V' ■? j ’ V** '1 '‘ ' j ‘ 

i * . ■•■..' . ^'.■’■l-'^ ^ v' ’Xr* ,.' 

’•'X ^ -’ -' ‘ ’S ♦ ‘.‘.'.I- .•.,•• •.'S'. 

r, -X." 


; -' \j . : s »i: j i • M » 

■''ix'-'-iX'-; ^ vv 

X/ V’C 




' I < 

« f » •• 


‘ ^ 

•'♦ * ,- • ‘ .• ^ .? .r’ ♦* ; ’ • .- .- , 

• ’ • ■> ^ } j • • I • ^ i * e f " I ' < < ' . *» ♦ 

“‘i k' 4- 'i*' |‘’ j ' .5 \ ' *X - ^ 

' ; ■^ ’i .' r ' 4 * J ' /■ • z '• ^ S r a'- j * * ,’• i' ' * i ‘ *'*’’' ^ 

'.An ^i'^‘J IV; -..N V. ■, ■ ■ 


s ■ r. ■' ' ^y \ •' '• ■ 'i 4 •' .. ■ !• •. t '. ; •. X ■, j. ‘ i . ' / • ■ j • •; ' 


UBRARY OF CONGRESS 


□ □□^sbamEb 




